A week in Morocco
by hotcrossbuns783
Summary: Asami goes on a business trip to Morocco and drags Akihito along.
1. 1: Night before the trip

**Disclaimer: All viewfinder work belongs solely to Yamane sensei. Additionally, all work is strictly fictional. Any characters bearing striking similarities to real life people, dead or alive, is pure coincidence. **

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><p><em>Sundae. Mmm…<em> Vanilla ice cream dribbled with chocolate made from the finest Belgium cocoa and milk. A young man in his mid-twenties sat in front of this sinfully delicious dessert, spoon digging into the milky concoction before scooping a glob up, lapping it up quickly like how a kitten would.

The older man sitting across the table watched Akihito as the younger man ignored him in favour of the expensive sundae he had just treated him to. Golden eyes blazed with lust when a small tongue appeared between luscious lips, giving the silver spoon a final swipe before disappearing back into Akihito's mouth. He was sure the brat would flush delightfully if he teased him about the unknowing seductive display.

A low chuckle brought Akihito out his reverie. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the sundae, from the chocolate slowly dipping down chocolate malt balls and- _What the heck? Is that REAL gold flakes?_

Liquid gold met chocolate brown and Akihito choked on the vanilla ice cream when he noticed the intense leer Asami was giving him, promising him another unforgettable night. W-what had he done wrong? He was pretty sure there was nothing sexy about eating ice cream… r-right?

Akihito made a visible effort to collect himself and settled with a scowl, directing it to the pervert in front of him.

"What?"

"Hmm… You look good when you're eating ice cream. So eager, so child-like and yet so _sensual_."

Akihito choked for the second time this moonless night. _What the- SENSUAL? Bastard._

Asami smirked at the frantically choking figure before him. Smaller hands grappled about the table, searching desperately for the cup that would relief him of his fit. The older man leaned over the table, offering Akihito a glass of cold water. Akihito gratefully accepted it from Asami's warm, larger hand. Recovering slightly from his coughing fit, Akihito shot Asami a glare meant to burrow through the yakuza's head, coughing out a raspy, "Jerk."

A large palm grazed Akihito's flushed cheeks before a thumb brushed past his velvet lips gently. "Manners Akihito, or else I would have to re-educate you in the bed tonight." Mmm… Yes, re-educate indeed. Akihito was never good at blowjobs after all.

Restraining a bubbling _pervert_ from his throat, Akihito slapped the hand of the confident 'businessman' away. It wouldn't do him any good to encourage Asami tonight. He still had work the next day, in the _mountains_, and he very much preferred to work with a healthy, un-sore back. Akihito opted to change the conversation topic instead. A safe one that wouldn't lead to … pillow talk.

"Didn't you say you had important business to attend to for the next two weeks? You sure are taking it easy for someone who said he needed to secure an oh-so-important five billion dollar deal that he didn't show up for a week. Getting on with age, aren't you Asami?"

Yup, that was safe. Corporate talk always bored him. And he got to jibe the god dammed unreasonable man too. Asami had appeared at his doorstep an hour ago, smug and impeccable as ever, arrogantly delivering a simple, straightforward demand.

"Get dressed and come with me."

He snorted. What was he to Asami? A freaking dog? But then again, he did obediently climb into the limousine. … Well, it wasn't his fault he didn't put up a fight. He was just too tired to deal with Asami's bitching if he retaliated. Hiking up the mountains for the last two days had drained him thoroughly. In fact, he probably wouldn't survive if Asami fucked him tonight. Asami's treat certainly did send him to heaven though. Ahh~ The joy of ice cream consumption.

Akihito shoved another spoonful ice cream into his mouth and waited patiently for the man to answer him.

Amber gold lit up dangerously. "Jealous, Akihito? I'll keep you company tonight. And morning if you so desire." Asami slid towards the spot beside Akihito and trailed a hand suggestively up the younger man's thigh.

Akihito's eyes widened at the sudden appearance of Asami beside him and his bold move. They were in public, for gods sake. Doesn't this man have even a tiny shred of decency?

"N-not here, Asami." Akihito protested and grabbed the hand, futilely pushing it away. Not good. The young photographer's head rolled back slightly and with half lidded eyes, softly moaned in pleasure. Asami's hand slid further up, stirring the suppressed passion he had withheld the entire week Asami was away securing that stupid deal. R-right. The deal.

With newfound strength, Akihito pushed away from Asami and scooted as far back as the red velvet sofa would let him. Hands thrown up defensively, he spluttered. "Y-you haven't told me about the deal. Did you get it or not?" Truthfully, he couldn't care less if Asami screwed it up, and lost the deal to another money grabbling idiot but he desperately needed something to distract Asami now and protect his ass. Literally.

Asami stared at his panicking wildcat and sighed. He really shouldn't be riling up the hot headed brat. Not when he needed Akihito with him the following week. The quicker he got his pet to comply, the faster they could set off.

Akihito gave the yakuza a suspicious glance over. When he saw Asami sink back elegantly into the seat, languidly lighting a cigarette before releasing a cloud of grey smoke, he dropped his hands, convinced Asami wouldn't be doing anything dodgy to tear his modesty apart more than it already was.

"It's pretty much done. I just need to pay the King a visit and, ah, _convince_ him to agree." Thinking about it just made Asami irritated. It was just a takeover of small casino situated near a popular travel route. Nothing too big or small. Sure, it would make Asami shit loads of money, but it was a very common thing. Casinos changed owners frequently. He couldn't comprehend why the King would make such a huge fuss. Kings don't usually bother themselves with such trivialities. The damn casino was bound to be taken over soon anyway. The current manager was a bumbling idiot. Kirishima couldn't even handle that blasted royalty. That told him a lot, after all Kirishima wasn't his secretary for nothing. If he was going to have to deal with an insufferable man all day or week, he was going to need a way to lighten up his spirits at night. And what better entertainer than Akihito. His own spoiled wildcat.

Asami's impassive face didn't betray his annoyance and it was confirmed when Akihito's face positively light up with curiosity, oblivious to Asami's irritancy. "Cool, you're visiting royalty? Like His Imperial Majesty the Emperor? Wait, can you even visit them so casually? Don't you have to go through shit loads of formalities and get them finally approved after years? … Y-you're not the emperor's long lost sibling going for a family reunion, are you?"

Akihito stared into Asami bight gold orbs apprehensively.

Taking another long drag, Asami spoke, "Not Japan's emperor, Takaba. Morroco's. And you're coming with me. We have a flight scheduled first thing tomorrow morning."

A long silence before Akihito drew in a deep breath. Ah. There it is. The spitfire that Asami loved so much. Let the game begin.

"WHAT?" Akihito's bellow brought various reactions throughout the small quiet tea house. Raised eyebrows, a series of frightened squeaks and jumps, wailing from a baby… Glasses of champangne shattered when the waitress jerked in shock.

"Calm down brat. You're making a scene, unless you prefer me to silence you using a very _pleasurable _method."

Akihito visibly bristled at the comment but he settled back down on the comfortable cushion, lest the older man kept to his word. He hissed out, "Bastard. I'm not a child. Keep your hands to yourself, old man. What do you mean I'm going? I have work damn it. I'm not a King, like the one you're going to blackmail, who can do whatever he wants."

The club owner smirked. "I'm not blackmailing, brat. The King and I are going to … _settle _this over a cup of tea. Peace and tranquility. Something nobody experiences with you around. Putting that aside, let's focus on something better, hmm? You're closer to royalty than you can ever imagine." Asami leaned over, allowing his lips to hover close to Akihito's ear and purred seductively, "Right? Your majesty, Emperor _Akihito_."

Shit. That did a number to Akihito's libido. Viciously squashing his unbearable desire for Asami, Akihito sank further into the couch, attempting to put as much space as he could between him and the lips that had promised him countless nights of raw pleasure. Somewhere in his muddled mind, Akihito wondered how they looked to other patrons of the shop. With Asami's lack of decency, he wouldn't be surprise if the world knew what relation he had with the dangerous yakuza in front of him at first glance. The intimacy was suffocating Akihito, as much as it was stirring Akihito up.

"W-what the heck? D-do you want my head to roll? Idiot. You've lost your mind. What if the emperor hears of this and tells me to change my name just because we share the same name? I'll hold you responsible. Oh my God, help me. I don't wanna die yet." Akihito wailed in distress.

Asami gave a low chuckle and proceeded to torment Akihito even more, letting his hot breath caress the shell of Akihito's ear. "You wouldn't need to worry if you're in Morocco, _with me._ I'll protect you with my own two hands."

Akihito snorted, and narrowed his eyes despite the discomfort in his lower regions. "Give up, I'm not going to be manipulated that easily."

Asami leaned back slightly, much to the photographer's relief. However, that relief instantly fled when his eyes met Asami's. They had turned menacingly dark, threatening to consume his entire quaking soul.

Akihito gave a frightened squeak before attempting to make a break for it. He had seen that gaze many times and it normally meant his journey down life was going to be perilous. Like the time when he stole the bastard's phone and prank called the first person, incidentally Asami's mother. God, he avoided phones like a plague for three whole months. He swore only Asami could get his hands on mobile-shaped dilidos.

Damn bastard. The memory was heating him up. Akihito turned pink.

Before Akihito could escape like a spooked out prey, the predator that was Asami blocked off his immediate escape route by standing in front of him. How the hell does this man move so fast?

Stiffening as Asami shifted and towered over him, he felt a rush of adrenaline as Asami spoke in his velvet, sexy and rich baritone voice, unspoken threat dripping from every word.

"Now Akihito, you can either leave this place with dignity fit for a King or I can strip that same dignity off you, slaves do not need them after all. Answer Takaba, are you coming or not?"

Akihito shivered under the chilling voice. God, this is why he wanted the man. So dangerous and yet it drew him like a cat drawn to catnip. The distinct scent of heavy control and barely restrained power crushed Akihito into submission.

"F-fine, I'm going."

Asami smirked as he heard the unspoken _asshole._

Asami 1 Akihito 0

Oh yes, the game would continue throughout the week in Morocco and he would, with no doubt, win.

-to be continued-

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><p>Phew, finally done with the chapter. It's my first yaoi fanfiction. First fanfiction too. *blushes* I'm in dire need of constructive comments so feel free to review. Thanks a lot for reading. :D<p> 


	2. 2: Metamorphosis part 1

**Disclaimer: refer to chapeter 1**

Akihito didn't know what to make of the situation. There were women everywhere. Surrounding them. There was absolutely no nook or cranny that he could find to escape. Asami was standing next to him, arm wrapped around his hips, pulling him slightly closer to his side. It was almost protective, but Asami's usual emotionless face betrayed none of his intentions. What really baffled the young photographer was that these women spared no attention to Asami, the living _sex god_. Women practically threw themselves at the yakuza's feet back in Japan. Instead, he found himself in the centre of attention. The way they raked their eyes over his entire body with such scrutinizing intensity was enough to make Akihito willingly sink further into Asami's 'protective embrace'. It was like being thrown into a den of young lions who had never seen a living prey before.

"Good lord. Away with you girls, you're scaring the poor thing. I must apologise Asami-sama, they're so eager to dress your little lover up that they can barely contain their excitement."

Akihito looked over to the source of the voice. Akihito didn't understand French but it was soft and melodious, yet strong and firm. The sea of women parted to reveal a petite Moroccan lady dressed in a silky Djellaba that flowed down her body, stopping just slightly above the ground. Long sleeves covered the entire of both arms, only allowing the smallest exposure of skin. Small, delicate brown hands.

Akihito knew the Djellaba was one of the more modest outfit that Moroccans wear. He had just enough time to research a little on the place before Asami had whisked him off into the plane. Bastard kept him up all night and didn't even let him bring a luggage, claiming he didn't need anything other than his passport and wallet. (Akihito presumed Asami had his men break into his house _again _to retrieve his chrysanthemum emblazoned red booklet from his safe.) He didn't dare ask Asami for his camera, for obvious reasons.

Since he didn't have any clothes with him for the trip, he had kind of suspected Asami was planning on buying him something expensive. What he didn't expect –_well, fine, it was a possibility he had considered at some point in time on the plane. One should never deny the fact that Asami was a total pervert at heart_- was Asami bringing him to a _female _boutique shop. This was beyond ridiculous. First, he was being treated like a pet and now he is a _female lover? _Asami has got to be shitting him. Part of his brain convinced him that he should be extremely offended but the other part was strangely comforted at that thought. It was a weird way to be promoted in Asami's screwed up categories of people the businessman knew, but it was a promotion nevertheless. It meant that Asami viewed him _more_ than a sex toy. Akihito turned pink. Shit, he had to distract himself. The fuzzy feeling bubbling in his guts was, slowly but surely, turning into something that was stirring his lower regions up. Akihito forced himself to focus on his surroundings, to analyze the layout thoroughly. L-like where the toilet was.

The boutique was certainly intricately designed to give a warm, cosy atmosphere, although there was no denying the expensive feel that rode above it all. At least to Akihito anyway, he was the only commoner there. Clad only in humble wear, Akihito shifted uncomfortably as he begun to feel more self-conscious of his dressing. _Damn, get a grip Akihito, show some peasant pride for god's sake._

"Lutfiyah-san. It is a pleasure to meet you. You have them prepared, yes?" Asami's perfectly fluent French rumbled pleasantly through the shop, snapping Akihito out of his nervous state. He had all but forgotten the demure manager in front of him when he sunk too deeply into his thoughts.

"It is _my_ pleasure to be finally meeting you. My husband speaks so highly of you, it made me wonder what kind of man you were. You certainly don't disappoint." Lutfiyah commented mischievously, her laughter tinkling like bells. "Now, if your adorable little kitten would kindly follow Nashita to the changing room, I promise you, you won't be disappointed with what I have prepared. When my girls are done with him, he'll be a _Tierboskat _instead. Slender and beautiful."

"I'm certainly looking forward to it but please tell your girls to _restrain_ themselves. Musashi-san was very kind to warn me about your staffs'_ unique_ tendencies. Now, if you'll excuse me, I like to make a phone call. I'll be back in a few minutes to take a look at my, wildcat, … preferably not traumatised." Asami politely excused himself. As he headed towards the entrance, he spared Akihito a look that made Akihito stick out his tongue childishly.

_Behave, brat._

When Asami disappeared into the bright sun lit outside, Akihito's mind fell positively into a state of panic. He had no clue as to what was discussed between Asami and the manager. He didn't speak French and he knew the asshole was perfectly aware of it. Now, said asshole just upped and left him alone with a bunch of hyenas in favour of a _phone call?_ Akihito was ready to spill blood. Preferably Asami's.

Seeming to notice Akihito's not-so-skillfully concealed flurry of emotions, Lutfiyah smiled warmly at him, giving a calming effect that had instantaneous effect on the skittish kitten. She patiently gestured towards him, Nashita and then the translucent purple curtain that hid another section of the shop, indicating that he was to follow the brimming-with-too-much-life sales assistant (Akihito couldn't understand why her facial muscles weren't cramping from the wide grin she was sporting ever since he stepped into the boutique) into the room that was probably going to be his worst nightmare. He could already sense the impending doom.

Taking a deep breath, Akihito collected himself and followed Nashita, who was currently talking to him in a flurry of French, gesturing at everything in sight, wildly. If they did anything weird, he could always run, and maybe … beg Asami to take him to someplace normal. Akihito scowled at that thought. He rather be in the same clothes the entire week than beg Asami. Bastard would probably ask for payment for the favour. He was still sore from last night and he really couldn't take anymore vigorous exercise of _that_ sort.

As he brush passed the lavender curtain, Akihito could only gape at the hallway. It was a heaven for women. Cloth made of the finest silk were rolled and lined up, encased in a row of glass cabinets, flanking both sides of the magnificent hallway. _Holy shi-, were those diamonds encrusted into the oak frame? _Further down were a row of jewelry , emeralds, rubies and other painfully expensive stones that Akihito couldn't recognize sat glittering in their glass cases as necklaces, earrings, bracelets and every accessory that a woman could ever known to possess. At this point, Akihito was extremely worried he would accidentally knock over something. This was something Akihito would never be able to pay off, even with a hundred lifetimes, with his meager salary. Unless he let Asami support him. But that would _never_ happen. He sniggered at the thought of Asami paying off his debts. Imagine how much debt he could rake up till he pissed the insufferable man. That would teach the arrogant prick not to mess with him.

Walking gingerly pass the overwhelmingly sparkling display of Morocco's hard-earned pride and joy, Akihito literally stopped in his tracks upon setting his photography-trained sight on the next set of displays.

Mannequins, no doubt of the highest quality, flaunted Morocco's intricate roots that drew viewers into her deep, rich history. Women's wear was more diverse than Akihito could ever imagine. From home-wear to formal-wear, peasant-wear to bourgeois-wear. What he wouldn't give to have his camera with him. It was the perfect opportunity to capture the lives of Moroccan women, embedded so deeply into the pieces of silk as meticulous embroidery.

Nashita seemed to have realized Akihito was no longer trailing after her, like a lost, confused stray cat. The wide grin plastered on her face fell off and was replaced with understanding when she recognize the look on Akihito's face. _Reverence_. It had been the same for her when she was first greeted by the overwhelming display. Till this day, her amazement had not ceased. Giving Akihito a comforting smile, she gestured for him to continue down the hallway leading to the changing room.

Akihito couldn't bear to place another foot forward. It felt blasphemous to tread upon the sacred land before him. The ambience carved by the workmanship conveyed to him feelings of innocence, happiness and tranquility of a young virgin. As a man, he couldn't simply soil such purity, as white as snow, like the wintry scenery of Hokkaido.

Allowing Akihito to spend the next few minutes reveling in Morocco's rich culture and traditions, Nashita decided that time was running out for the both of them. She was sure Asami didn't like to wait and her boss would have her head if Asami ever gave the slightest hint of disapproval. With gentle insistence, she tugged at Akihito's arm, ushering him forward despite his enormous reluctance to do so.

As Akihito walked past the mannequins of beauty that made even greek goddess, Aphrodite, pale in comparison, he offered a silent plea for forgiveness. The intimate relationship he developed over the last few minutes with this part of the hallway was suffocating him. It was almost as intense as Asami's … l-lovemaking at night.

The tense freelance photojournalist relaxed ever so slightly when they cross the holy land for women and into the brightly-lit dressing room. At least that's what Akihito assumed it to be as there was a make-up counter, an entire wall composing of one mirror, curtains that encircled the changing room and- Akihito's jaw dropped. However unseemly it might be, Akihito really couldn't help himself. There was an entire rack of Moroccan styled clothes, all of them arranged by their respective shades of colours. There had to be at least a hundred outfits of the same colour in one sub-rack. And there were a lot more sub-racks as far as Akihito's eye could see.

While it was true Akihito was intimidated by the amount of clothes, what Akihito found even more intimidating than the pile of clothes was the group of females in front of him, the very same ones that had stripped him bare with just their eyes at the very start of his journey down the road of the feminine. Akihito squirmed when the dangerous glint in their eyes grew more pronounced. It gave Akihito a bizarre sense of déjà vu. He vaguely recognized that look on his mother's face when he was small. It was definitely that one shopping trip that went horribly wrong. His pops decided to personally see to Akihito's clothes after that day. Akihito could only grimace at the memory.

A slight movement in his peripheral vision jerked Akihito out of his brief trip down memory lane, reminding him of the dire situation he had thrown himself into. Akihito whimpered. They couldn't possibly be forcing all of those clothes on him… R-right? He had heard a phrase the female manager used earlier. His understanding of French was miniscule but it sounded something vaguely like … dress up? Akihito felt like curling up in a corner to die.

Ready to bolt at the next slightest movement, Akihito jumped rather brilliantly when a small hand clasped his arm firmly, as if to prevent him from making his escape. Akihito turned to his side and found himself staring down at Lutfiyah, sporting the same evil glint like every other female in the room. _Oh my god._

Asami smirked at the shrill, distinct scream echoing from the hallway behind the lavender curtains. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Kirishima's barely noticeable wince. Asami suppressed the grin threatening to break the cool façade he had maintained throughout the morning. He did mention that peace and tranquility was something no one experienced when his wild cat was around. He settled himself comfortably into the couch and placed a cigarette between his lips. Leaning to the side, he allowed Kirishima to light his cigarette.

"He'll be lovely, wouldn't he?"

"Yes sir," came Krishima's curt reply. "I'm certain that Lutfiyah-sama is capable of doing an excellent job."

"Ah. Her husband did say she was one of the best in this line of work."

"Indeed sir. Musashi-sama gave his word that Takaba would be more than presentable at the palace, tomorrow evening."

Asami gave a low chuckle as another indignant yell shattered the peace of the boutique.

He was looking forward to comforting his _Tierboskat_ tonight.

Asami 2 Akihito 0

And so the game continues….

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><p>Moroccans speak French in the commerce sector, if you don't already know. They speak Arabic dialects in rural areas and among themselves.<p>

Lutfiyah- Delicate, graceful

Nashita- energetic, lively

Haha. I couldn't resist the toilet part. It's always the first thing I do when I enter a shopping centre or shop. I'm sure many other people do too. … Right?

Tierboskat, or Serval is a medium sized African wildcat. It is strong and slender, known to have the longest legs, relative to body size, within the feline family. Native to Africa, they use to populate Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria. (With reference to wikipedia)

It is becoming increasingly difficult to keep our mismatched couples in character. Please tell me if they're becoming a little or brazenly OC.

In response to,

ajj7sunhawk: I did hesitate when i was drafting out the chapter because Akihito wasn't exactly feminine but you'll find out why he's in female clothing next chapter. Hope i don't diappoint. :D Not really sure if i'm gonna hike the rating up. I'm kind of iffy with details spelled out in words when i write. Probably die of embarrassment halfway through. Haha.

gundamzbd36: chapter 3's going to set in the palace. Look forward to it. We'll see who wins when we tally up the score in the last chapter. :D

To the rest of my reviewers and viewers,

Thanks for reading and reviewing. :D

God speed.


	3. A small Valentine side story

**A small Valentine Day side story**

One day before Asami left Akihito alone for a week to secure a five billion dollar deal…

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><p>February the fourteenth is a day where girls in Japan put their feelings into chocolates and gave them to their love interests, in hopes that the very same feelings are reciprocated on March the fourteenth. In other words, Valentines was something that didn't concern Akihito at all.<p>

However, when the young freelance photojournalist became the unofficial lover of Japan's powerful crime lord, the wheels of fate spun and things begun to change for Akihito.

Akihito saw Valentines as a job opportunity. Careless, bumbling idiots belonging to Japan's group of elites would take this day to spoil their lovers, showering them with expensive gifts, taking them to dinner and finally spend the night in an elite hotel. Akihito absolutely loved Valentines because the celebration settled two months of rent each year.

Unfortunately for Akihito, this year was an exception.

"What the hell do you mean there are no jobs available?" Akihito's heart took a deep plunge.

"There _are _jobs available, Takaba. Why don't you take up this one? Photo shoot for a Valentine lingerie commercial? Or this one with the famous mode-"

His manager was cut off by Akihito's angry outburst. "Damn it! You know what I want! A high paying scoop! Love is already in the air, they'll definitely slip up on Valentines!"

Akihito was in a state of panic. Valentines was three days away and if he didn't get information now, he would lose the chance to stalk, shoot and pay the rent for the next two months. Shit, he didn't even prepare a contingency plan in the event Valentines didn't work out. He didn't even need to. His rent practically solved itself on Valentines.

The balding manager ignored his employee's apparent disrespect. Wiping his sweat off with a checkered handkerchief, he continued on, "There are no jobs of that sort. Either you take these model photo shoots scheduled for the next two days or you starve this week."

"B-but I have rent to pay…" Akihito gave his best puppy look, in hopes that his employer's heart would waver.

"Not up for negotiation or discussion Takaba. Take it or leave it."

Akihito flung his innocent mask out of the window. He gritted his teeth, snatched the contract off the table and stalked out of the office angrily.

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><p>Once Takaba left, the photographer's manager visibly relaxed. He gave himself a pat on the back for resisting the hurt puppy look. Picking up his phone, he dialed quickly and waited for the other person to pick up.<p>

The phone line on the other side clicked.

"Asami-sama, it is done. Takaba Akihito will not have any assignments as requested. In return, you promised to cancel my deb-"

Without an answer, the phone line went dead.

The balding man sighed. Trust Akihito to pick one of the most dangerous lovers around.

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><p>Akihito moped. He moped so piteously that Takato decided to offer his best friend sympathy by inviting him to lunch on Valentines with his wife.<p>

When Akihito arrived at Takato's humble dwelling, Hisana-san was still in the kitchen. Pattering to the door, she greeted her husband's best friend.

"Oh my, you're early. I just finished preparing lunch. Takato's out buying wine for tonight. Why don't you have a seat first?"

Akihito mumbled a small greeting of his own before entering the house.

In a matter of minutes, Akihito felt bored. There were curious tinkling sounds resounding from the kitchen and Akihito padded over inquisitively. He stuck his head in tentatively.

"Um… Sorry for intruding. I was wondering if you needed any help?"

Hisana was badly startled by Akihito's sudden appearance. Her hand jerked to the side, causing the white chocolate in a pastry bag to be 'piped' out away from the intended location.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare… you…" Akihito's profuse apology slowed significantly when he noticed the chocolate cake on the kitchen counter. Hisana had decorated the cake with streams of melted white chocolate. The patterns were intricate and showed much of Hisana's love for Takato. Contrasting with the brown chocolate cake, white chocolate swirled elegantly across, forming a message that warmed Akihito's heart. _I Love You. _

It would have been perfect if not for the exceptionally long tail the letter 'u' was sporting, caused by Akihito's disturbance.

If Akihito had puppy ears, Hisana would have seen it droop sadly when he notice the slight blemish to the otherwise perfect Valentine cake.

Giggling, she assured Akihito she wasn't angry. However, she told Akihito in a firm voice, "Now, you keep this a secret from Takato, you hear me? It's a surprise for tonight. You mustn't spoil it."

"Yes ma'am!" Akihito responded, raising his hand to his head in a mock salute.

As Hisana went about fixing the letter 'u', Akihito let his eyes wander about the kitchen. His eyes settled on the bowl of leftover unmelted chocolate discs. _Mmm.. Yummy… _Akihito's stomach rumbled in agreement.

Hisana looked up, spotting Akihito scratching his head in embarrassment. Hisana let loose a small laugh, Takato sure made adorable friends.

"There's some biscuits at the corner over there to feed that impatient little monster of yours. You leave those alone. I need to give them to my friends."

Akihito stuffed two sugar biscuits into his mouth and stared curiously at the chocolate discs. _Friends? Isn't Valentine a day for love?_

When Akihito pointed out that obvious fact, the gentle housewife gave him an incredulous look. Akihito's blank face prompted Hisana to patiently explain to him. "There are different types of love, Akihito. Camaraderie is just a form of love with a different name."

Curiosity apparently sated, Akihito wordlessly nodded and spent the next thirty minutes watching Takato's wife melt the chocolate discs (Akihito wasn't very sure but was Hisano sprinkling something into the melted chocolate?) before pouring them into a mold.

Different types of love huh. He wondered what his feelings for Asami were. It was like a mixture of everything. Hate, like, lust, denial, acceptance… The list could go on forever. His meetings with Asami always evoked such conflicting feelings within him.

Akihito stared wistfully at the chocolate tokens hardening slowly in the mold. Maybe he should give chocolate to Asami, to convey to the cruel, emotionless man the twisted love he had for him. In the next instant, Akihito hastily shoved the thought aside. He wasn't going to damage his male pride anymore than it already was by celebrating a day only females partake. Males were supposed to be on the receiving end today. _B-but it wouldn't hurt right? To give Asami chocolate... He needed to show his appreciation after the Hong Kong incident anyway…_

Hisana didn't miss the conflicting emotions Akihito displayed so openly in his honey-brown eyes. However, before she could comment, Takato's voice resounded from the doorway. "I'm back honey!"

Distracted from her intentions to inquire Akihito, she frantically pleaded to the young man. "My cake! I need to hide it. Akihito, go be a dear and distract him won't you? Remember, don't mention anything about it alright? It's our little secret. Now off with you!"

Akihito gave one last forlorn gaze at the chocolate discs before being shooed out of the kitchen.

"Akihito! Great to see you made it! Kou's coming soon. His girlfriend just dumped him earlier in the morning."

"Uh… Hey Takato. Oh wait, don't go to the kitchen! Um… I mean, did you just say Kou got dumped? On Valentines? Umm… why don't we discuss how to cheer him up later? In the l-living room!"

Takato stared at Akihito. It wasn't normal for his friend to be that frantic over Kou's post-relationship well-being. Kou's love adventures never once ended well. Akihito shifted nervously, twiddling his thumbs as his eyes flitted occasionally to the kitchen.

The black haired man blinked went he heard the refrigerator slam shut. Hisana poked her head out of the kitchen, joyfully announcing that lunch was ready to be served.

Akihito breathed a sigh of relief when Takato moved to help his wife set the table.

Akihito spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying a wonderful lunch and comforting Kou.

As the sun started to set, Akihito stood at the doorstep saying his thanks and farewell. Takato smiled and ruffled his hair, reassuring him that if he had problems with his rent, he could always give him a call. Kou, sprawled on the sofa drunk, raised his hand and gave a feeble wave of goodbye. As Akihito made to leave, Hisana's call for him to wait echoed from the kitchen.

Wooden flooring creaked as Hisana rushed from the kitchen to Akihito.

"Here." Hisana shoved a neatly decorated box into Akihito's palm. "You looked like you wanted to give this to somebody."

Akihito blushed furiously. "W-hat! A-absolutely impossible. I don-"

He was cut short when a small hand clamped over his mouth.

"Don't argue with me, Akihito. My woman instincts are never wrong."

He looked pleadingly at his best friend who merely watched on, amusement evident on his face.

Akihito hung his head in defeat. " Um… Thanks, I guess. Um… Then, I'll, you know…" He jerked his thumb towards the door. "I'll take my leave…"

As Akihito shuffled out of view, Takato questioned his beloved. "How did you know he had a lover? I didn't tell you anything."

Hisana merely laughed and buried her head into Takato warm chest. As her husband wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer into an embrace, her muffled reply came. "Woman's intuition, darling. You should know by now not to question its credibility."

Takato could only nod his head in agreement. Silence enveloped the two as they savored each other's warmth. Hisana's voice chimed gently as she offered an extended explanation.

"He looked like a love sick puppy back in the kitchen. I bet you didn't know his lover was a man too."

Takato choked.

"W-what? H-how-?"

Hisana pulled away from Takato. When her husband looked down, she raised an eyebrow. Takato needed no further explanation.

_Right. Woman's intuition._

* * *

><p>Akihito was not to spend the night alone, as was the norm every year since he moved out from his family. Akihito should've known better that Asami would not allow it.<p>

As he stood still, staring at his unlocked front door, he fingered the blue box in his hands. He was torn between two choices. One, go to Club Sion, give Asami the chocolate, look like an idiot and then be fucked into the desk all night. Two, stay at home, eat the chocolate and avoid all misfortunes stated in Choice Number One. Akihito sighed. Choice Number Two seemed really appealing to him.

As fate would have it, Akihito choices were cut down to one. Choice Number One was all that was left for him when Asami showed up, dressed smartly in his branded three piece Italian suit, exuding an aura that screamed danger and sensuality.

Shocked by the man's presence, he quickly and clumsily shoved the box into his coat pocket. Throwing on a mask of nervous innocence, he hesitantly offered a small smile to Asami as his right hand inched slowly towards the door knob behind his back.

The yakuza stalked forward confidently, eyes trailing down the photographer's entire body. The moment the smaller man grasped the door knob, golden eyes darken as his strides became larger.

Akihito judged the distance between him and the rapidly approaching older man for a moment before twisting the door knob harshly. He swung the door open with speed enhanced by adrenaline and rushed in. Without wasting any time, Akihito turned around and pushed the door shut with all his weight.

When he locked his door securely with a resounding click, Akihito released his breath. He couldn't believe his luck. For once, he managed to outmaneuver the arrogant man. He gave a snigger of triumph and pressed his ears against the wooden board, listening for any indication that it was his victory.

When silence met him, Akihito frowned. It wasn't like Asami to give in without a fight.

"Maybe he …left?" Akihito whispered to himself.

"Who left, Akihito?" The rich, low voice rumbled chillingly into his ear, down his spine.

Akihito froze. When his body caught up with his mind, it was too late. Asami pinned his arms to the door, with one hand, above his head. He felt hot lips crushing his own, tongue forcing its way into the hot cavern, pulling him into a heavy, passionate kiss that left him breathless.

Snapping his head to the side to tear away from the kiss, Akihito gasped for air. Asami allowed Akihito to regain his breath before latching onto the slender neck, naively exposed before him.

A cry tore from the younger man as he sucked viciously, intent on placing his mark on his lover.

Akihito struggled mindlessly, pushing futilely at Asami's head.

"A-aah. A-asa-… Asami! W-ait! S-sto-p! H-how-… Ah!"

Asami gave one last harsh suck, before pulling away. He lifted his head slightly to nibble at Akihito's earlobe as he answered the unfinished question.

"You're too slow Akihito. Anyone could have slipped in before you closed the door. You need to be faster. Let's focus on training your speed tonight, shall we?"

Akihito wailed loudly in distress when he was carried firmly to his bedroom.

* * *

><p>Three long hours of hot, passionate sex.<p>

Akihito could only bonelessly sink back into the comfort of his bed when Asami finally relented. He sighed softly when he felt the yakuza pull out of him. Every part of him was sore, but he ached pleasantly, hunger sated.

Rolling over to his side, he sleepily observed the man pull his tie back into a perfect knot. How was it that every damn time they had sex in his house, he was the only one stripped down to nothing?

Asami turned to him, smirk back in its rightful place. Akihito gave him a tired scowl.

"Don't worry Akihito. You'll have time to recover over the next week. I'll be out of the country securing a five billion dollar deal for your pension in the future. Until then, rest well."

Akihito's snort was smothered when Asami bent down to give him a quick gentle kiss. When Asami made to pull away, Akihito's small hand weakly clasped onto his sleeve.

"Mmm… Coat…. Pocket…. Box…. For…. *yawn* …you….." Akihito relaxed his grip, falling into a dreamless slumber.

Asami raised an eyebrow. He tucked his lover properly into bed and made his way to the living room where Akihito's coat was carelessly discarded.

From the crumpled black heap, he retrieved the blue box, wrapped neatly in a pink ribbon.

Bringing the box to his lips, Asami whispered tenderly, "I receive and accept your feelings, Akihito."

Takaba Akihito was such a romantic at heart.

* * *

><p>Back at Takato's house, the newly married couple sat together at the table. Hisano looked on expectantly while Takato gulped. The chocolate cake sat silently in front of him.<p>

Shit. He would have stopped Akihito if he knew chocolate was inside that box.

Hisano's chocolate were deadly. Her friends knew not to consume it but Akihito didn't know better.

He prayed to any listening deity that Akihito didn't give his Valentine the chocolate. The poor guy would be bedridden for days.

Takato gave his wife a nervous smile and took in three deep breaths to prepare himself for the ordeal.

He shrugged his shoulders.

_Here goes nothing._

Takato dug in.

Oh god. He should have confiscated Hisano's secret chocolate ingredient when he had the chance.

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to Akihito, Asami was admitted into the hospital the next day for food poisoning.<p>

It was fortunate that Asami started the game a week later or he would have lost the first point to the unknowing wildcat of his.

Asami 0 Akihito 1 (unofficial)

* * *

><p>Written in spirit of Valentine's Day.<p>

Hoped you had fun reading!

God speed.

p.s: Happy Valentine's Day!


	4. 3: Metamorphosis part 2

**Disclaimer: The usual stuff that you probably know by heart already with the addition of: Romeo and Juliet is the work of William Shakespeare.**

Author's note: I know I said chapter 3 was going to take place in the palace but my friend kind of insisted that I should extend chapter 2. I'm real sorry for killing the anticipation. The next chapter (definitely set in the palace) is about ¾ done so you should expect an update within the next two days if nothing school related crops up.

Happy reading.

* * *

><p>Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet. If Akihito couldn't recite the seven colours of the rainbow at the top of his head after this let's-see-who-can-shove-the-poor-japanese-boy-into-the-most-number-of-clothes competition, he should be sorely ashamed of himself. In fact, give him the next hour and he was sure to be able to tell the difference between eucalypt green and rivergum green, even when they are essentially the same freaking shade of green.<p>

Akihito couldn't believe the nerve of these women. They had been treating him like a piece of lifeless mannequin for the past two hours, stripping him bare without his consent save for his boxers (which he was eternally grateful for) and forcing his barely clothed self into women's clothing that varied from very conservative to downright revealing.

It didn't help that the exhibitionist criminal waiting down the hallway left so many bruises on him. Bite marks around his neck and collarbone and broad, red lines around his wrists and ankles left him lighting up in painful embarrassment while the pack of female hounds squealed and swooned at the apparent display of love.

The photojournalist couldn't understand why they were trying so hard. Other than the fact that Asami would probably have their brain shot out of their heads for defying him, these Moroccan ladies seemed to genuinely enjoy playing their little game of dress the Japanese up. Akihito was convinced that their efforts would prove to be futile later.

He wasn't exactly as largely _–and sexily, his mind whispered traitorously-_ built as Asami but he had still retained the standard male built. Broad shoulders, lean, muscular arms and legs, angular face structure… All in all, he definitely looked distinctly male. There was simply no way any female clothes could bring out his non-existent curves _-well, maybe his butt curve. Asami never failed to mention that particular trait when they were tussling away in bed-_ at his hips or chest. Akihito fervently hoped that the end result of this cross dressing nightmare would burn Asami's condescending eyes badly, so much so that he would never indulge in this newfound fetish for the rest of his life. He couldn't even see how badly he looked because the curtains had been drawn over the ridiculously huge mirror. As usual, his opinions didn't matter.

Akihito huffed impatiently when he was stripped of yet another piece of clothing. As another silky garment made its way onto his body, he sighed sleepily. The repetitive process of having clothes yanked off and put on was slowly lulling him into a drowsy state despite the loud babbling of French belonging to the group of female staff as they argued over something. From their hand gestures and face expression, Akihito could just barely guess the current topic of disagreement. Flowers or butterflies. _Oh great deities, it's never going to end, is it?_

If they took over two hours to decide on a piece of outfit, Akihito could only groan at the prospect of repeating the same process for shoes, accessories, hair-styling and make-up. As disturbing as it sounds, he'd very much rather spend the time being tied to Asami's bed and be shoved up the ass with nothing but toys and Asami's incredibly huge cock.

* * *

><p>Outside, lounging comfortably on a couch, Asami sneezed. While Kirishima peered worriedly at his boss, Asami merely smirked knowingly. His wildcat must have been thinking about him. The poor brat must be suffering badly inside if he was seeking out Asami for a source of comfort. His pet would surely beg him pitifully tonight when he revealed to him that he would continue to be well-acquainted with the women here for the rest of the week,<p>

"Stop hovering Kirishima, I'm fine."

The low, clear voice stopped Kirishima from openly assessing his boss's well-being. However it did nothing to quell the anxiousness the bodyguard felt. Kirishima was worried. Extremely worried. Asami-sama never sneezed unless his almost impregnable immune system crashed. Takaba Akihito's Valentine chocolate did a spectacular job of doing just that.

"Are you sure, sir? It may be possible that you have not fully recovered from the aftereffects of Valentines. I'm sure it would be better if you let the doc-"

Asami cut off his secretary's rambling with a cold voice, "Kirishima, are you questioning my ability to take care of myself?"

Kirishima stiffened. "… No sir."

"Then we don't have a problem," Asami stated firmly.

"…" Kirishima hesitated before voicing more of his concern. "However Asami-sama, you must understand that Morocco's weather is nothing like Japan's. It would be unwise if-"

With a single raised eyebrow, Asami chided the anxious man, "Are you my mother, Kirishima?"

Kirishima was horrified beyond words. "No sir. The very idea of being compared to Tomoko-sama is inconceivable."

"Exactly. I hired you to be my bodyguard and secretary, so why don't you start doing your job?"

"Yes sir." Kirishima handed a file to Asami and as his boss flipped through the neatly collated information, he elaborated, "Our informants have discovered several possible reasons as to why the King is vehemently refusing your right to the takeover. It seems the King…"

In hushed tones, the two continued to converse in this manner while they waited for Akihito's grand appearance.

* * *

><p><em>Corsets<em> should be banned.

It was an absolute abomination.

He could hardly breathe in this thing and it was crushing his waist. (Although, it did a splendid job in giving Akihito a curvaceous torso) Akihito yowled miserably when Lutfiyah gave another firm yank at the strings lacing the corset up.

In an attempt to distract himself from the growing pain, he cursed the man responsible for his suffering. "_Stupid, mean, horrible man" _was all Akihito's feeble mind could childishly supply_._

* * *

><p>Asami narrowed his eyes when he sneezed again. So the boy was thinking unfavorable things of him was he? It was time to reconsider tonight's bed routine.<p>

Kirishima was back into his mother-hen mode.

"We are not discussing this, Kirishima."

"Yes sir." Kirishima visibly retreated.

* * *

><p>Done. Finally done. He survived. He would live to tell the tale.<p>

Akihito wanted to kiss the ground in relief but his clothes were too restrictive for the action. Choosing the perfect matching shoes and accessories took a relatively shorter time because the theme was more or less set by the garment he was wearing. Styling of his hair and make-up were a breeze as professionals did it with precise efficiency and practiced ease.

The best part? He was spared from wearing the corset.

It was a shame he couldn't even catch even a glimpse of his appearance that would definitely leave Asami at a loss of words. The female staff wouldn't let him, ushering him down the hallway the very minute his make-up was done.

Now, the very last part of the act was to scare the wits out of Asami with his horrible appearance as a drag queen. Life sure was sweet at this very moment.

Akihito let loose a gurgle of evil laughter.

* * *

><p>"Yes Asami-sama, the King's right hand general has personally requested-."<p>

Asami silenced his secretary with a hand. His attention was now given fully to the approaching footsteps. Kirishima retrieved the file of reports and took a step back.

When the lavender veil was swept to the side to reveal his wildcat, Asami was, for the very first time in his life, genuinely speechless.

Akihito smirked victoriously when he saw Asami freeze the moment he laid eyes on his sure-to-be appalling self.

_Hah! Take that Asami!_ _Wow, even glasses guy is gaping. That bad huh. _

His sense of victory was short lived, and confusion was quickly rewritten in its place. Something was very wrong. It was difficult to describe Asami in the next flow of events. The man seemed to be in a trance.

Asami fluidly rose from the couch, and glided towards Akihito, eyes never once leaving his transformed self. Akihito's heart pounded with anticipation. The entranced man stopped a step before Akihito and smoothly took Akihito's right hand. Asami bent forward, bringing the back of Akihito's flawless hand to his lips and lightly kissed it.

_Oh my god._

Blood rushed upwards, causing Akihito's cheeks to glow delightfully. He drew a deep breath when Asami looked up, lips never leaving his right hand. Asami's eyes were no longer golden. It was a deep shade of heated ember, swirling with an emotion Akihito couldn't identify. Akihito shifted uncomfortably and his uneasiness seemed to bother the older man.

Asami's soothing baritone voice rumbled, breaking the deathly silence.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand  
>This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:<br>My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand  
>To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."<p>

Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. That was all Akihito's muddled mind could compute. His hand however, instinctually moved, interlocking their fingers together. Unsure of what to say, Akihito stuttered unintelligently.

"H-huh?"

Silence.

Asami straightened, still keeping a hold on Akihito's trembling hand.

"Um… Asa-"

A pointer finger was placed lightly over his lips.

"Shhh. Don't speak my sweet _Tierboskat._"

The finger gently traced his bottom lip, and then his jaw. It was then sleekly replaced by Asami's thumb. As the thumb gently brushed against his lips, Asami spoke again, holding their interlocking hands up, head cocking slightly towards them.

"I'll take this as your answer."

Before Akihito could decipher what Asami meant, his chin was gripped with unyielding yet gentle force and his lips gently met with Asami's briefly.

Butterflies collected in Akihito's stomach. He was being torn asunder. While he was touched by Asami's small, gentle kiss and his entire tender demeanor, it also crept the hell out of Akihito. The bastard was uncharacteristically treating him like a porcelain china doll. Every movement was so calculated and controlled, like he was afraid to break the fragile piece of work. Fear and hesitance was not Asami. The real Asami always maintained a cool, detached façade, doing his thing with infuriating confidence. It was like a spell had been cast over the usual smug, arrogant and overbearing yakuza, making him so, s-so … m-mushy.

He glanced at Kirishima for some sort of clue as to what had come over the man, but Kirishima was shockingly useless. The blank gape was still prevailing on the secretary's face.

_Just what the hell is going on? _

Akihito's confusion must have been reflected on his face because he found himself steered towards a full length mirror in the corner of the room by a set of strong arms. They remained resting at his waist when he peered cautiously into the mirror.

"Oh." Akihito could only softly comment. He unconsciously brought his fingers towards the reflection. Fingertips lightly tracing his reflection, he admired the ethereal being in the mirror in disbelief and awe.

It really couldn't be him. This perfect specimen of androgyny couldn't possibly be him. This dreamy stranger could even outshine world-class, famous gender bending Bosnian model, Andrej Pejic.

The _Takchita,_ as Lutfiyah had taught him back in the dressing room, looked disturbingly fitting on him. Translucent long sleeves of the button up robe flowed smoothly over his arms, hiding the angularity of his muscles under the guise of a slender dark silhouette. The long orange coloured dress underneath was made of fine fabric and it complimented his golden tanned skin perfectly. It would swish softly over the floor each time Akihito made a small movement, letting the pair of golden_ Balgha _peek out from underneath the flowing fabric. The _Takchita_, however, couldn't hide his strong frame nor did it give him a chest. Rather than being a flaw, it gave an image of an exceptionally tall, flat-chested dominating female instead. Resilient and powerful.

Akihito now knew why they had forgone the corset in favour of the _Sfifa_. The broad orange fabric encircled his waist firmly, similar to an _obi_, gathering the fabric at his mid-torso before it spilled freely downwards. It wasn't a well-defined voluptuous curve but it gave a svelte illusion with each swing of his hip nevertheless.

Detailed embroidery filled the silky canvas. Golden and silver thread weaved through the _Takchita_, coming together to form complicated designs. One of the most distinguishable patterns was the theme of the _Takchita_, hieroglyphs of a savannah wildcat. Probably the _Tierboskat_ creature Asami had mentioned moments ago. Beading and sequins also elaborately adorned the traditional formal Moroccan costume. Akihito was amazed by the meticulous handicraft. Moroccan women must have spent years embroidering this magnificent piece of work.

His usual wild hairstyle was pulled back, intricately curled at the ends, entwining with adjacent curls flawlessly, save for his fringe. His normal messy fringe was neatly flattened by hair starch, lining the top left half of this face down to spot just below his left earlobe. Glitter was sprinkled onto his hair, making the nest of hair sparkle dazzlingly under the soft amber lighting of the boutique.

What greatly interest Akihito was his face. Make-up had definitely got to be the scariest invention in history. He could hardly recognize himself, although if he squinted hard enough, he would sometimes see the shadow of his original face, behind the mask he was wearing, for no more that several fleeting seconds. Foundation smoothed out his angular chin and jaw. A small tinge of pink blusher dusted on his cheeks accentuated the roundness of it. His eyebrows were drawn so that it slanted down like a pair of spread out wings. Dark eyeliner and orange eye shadow brought out the hazel glow in his eyes while fake dark eyelashes, when fluttered sultrily, enlarged his eyes by impossible amounts. Dark red lipstick flaunted the fullness of his lips. He could see why Asami had that insane urge to kiss him. Absurd as it was, Akihito felt compelled to kiss his own reflection. He appeared to be neither female nor male because when his mouth moved tentatively to see if the delicate mask would crack, hints of his masculinity at the edge of his face showed.

If Akihito had to describe himself, he would have to say that on the surface, he represented a woman of ethereal beauty, grace and dignity. However, if one were to pay attention, the coiled power and masculine undertone would teasingly show once in a while. His appearance was definitely one of nobility, strong-willed and no pushover. It could be his ego speaking but Akihito could only think that the being he had become possessed a beauty that was unrivalled despite the vague sexuality.

It then suddenly occurred to Akihito. The reason for Asami's sudden freaky personality change just unsuspectingly came to him. The very thought was unfathomable; however it was a truth that could not be denied. Asami, the great, powerful, crime lord, was _enamored_.

The laughter in Akihito bubbled in his guts, slowly rising and he quivered. The grip on his waist tightened warningly but the androgynous beauty was undeterred. In a matter of minutes, Akihito laughed hysterically, shaking in Asami's warm embrace.

This was definitely _his_ victory.

Asami 2 Akihito 1(with help from the female staff)

* * *

><p>Just some information to lessen the confusion.<p>

The number of sneezes superstition:

One sneeze- somebody is thinking/saying something good about you.

Two sneezes-somebody is thinking/saying something bad about you

Three or more sneezes- definitely a cold, go see a doctor

The quote from Shakespeare's play, Romeo and Juliet:

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand  
>This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:<br>My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand  
>To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."<p>

Putting that simply: If you find my touch repulsive I will remove all trace of it with a kiss.

If you have read Romeo and Juliet (I'm honestly not a big fan of it so I'll apologise in advance if my interpretation is totally off), the entire scene goes something along the lines of Romeo touching Juliet for the very first time and he boldly asks for a kiss in this extremely long winded way(see above quote). Juliet then answers that she does not hate his touch and shows it by interlocking their hands together. This is a metaphor keeping with the pilgrim theme- pilgrims clasp their hands together when they pray. Basically it's a metaphor for a kiss. When Asami quoted from Romeo's lines, he was asking for Akihito's permission for a kiss because Akihito seemed a bit skittish when Asami freaked him out with a kiss on the back of the hand. (Which is pretty much very un-Asami) So when Akihito interlocks their hands, he unknowingly gives his consent for Asami to kiss him. Understand? Anyway, I hoped I managed to pull that scene off properly. If you still don't get it, just forget it. It's not that important in the storyline. It's just to show the change in Asami's personality.

Andrej Pejic:

Bosnian **male **model.

Top 50 male models- Rank no. 18

FHM magazine, top 100 sexiest women in the world 2011- Rank no. 98 (yes, even though he's male)

Notable for his androgyny and his ability to pull off both female and male modeling successfully.

The Takchita:

The Takchita is a traditional Moroccan female garment worn for formal events. It consists of two pieces. The first layer is a dress, not very ornately decorated. The second layer is a button up robe that is worn over the dress. It is usually richly adorned with embroidery, beadings and sequins. The Sfifa (comparable to the Japanese obi) and akaad closures holds the second layer in place. Still can't visualize it? Go google it or something.

The Balgha:

Flat sandals. Sometimes decorated with gold or silver tinsels, especially the high heels version.

Extended Author's note: Omg. I totally OOCed Kirishima and Asami at the end. It was intentional so I'm not too worried. However, if it seriously crept you out, tell me. I'll try to restrain myself in the future. Haha.

In response to questions posed by reviewers:

Akihito's punishment? You'll have to wait till march the 13th to find out. I'll be doing a white day side story.

To my readers and reviewers,

Glad you liked it. Thanks for reading.

God speed.


	5. 4: Feast of the Throne

**Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapter**

"I beg your pardon?" Akihito narrowed his eyes, pushing slightly away from Asami's embrace.

"Begging already, Akihito? I've hardly touched you." Asami's finger trailed languidly up Akihito's thighs, feeling the tautness through worn out jeans.

Akihito knitted his brows in frustration. Trust Asami to only think about sex. "You know bloody well what I meant. Are you stupid? This is not game Asami. If the King finds out, he'll have both my head and yours."

"He wouldn't if you don't screw up. I have faith in your proficiency in acting. Why, just a few weeks ago, didn't you act exactly like my personal sex sla-"

Akihito slapped a hand over Asami's mouth, blushing furiously. He snarled accusingly. "You drugged me."

Asami pushed the small hand away. "If that's what it takes to make you a good actor, I can provide you with some. Morocco produces very effective aphrodisiacs. I'm sure I can get Lutfiyah to send over some of her homemade concoctions."

Akihito's eyes widened in disbelief. _That petite woman makes what?_ He should have known not to judge a book by its cover; after all, Lutfiyah could be pretty passionate when she wanted to be. He shuddered at the memory of being in the dressing room.

A bold hand glided up, tracing the curve of his butt, snapping him out of his thoughts. Akihito frowned and slid out of Asami's reach. "We're digressing. Back to the point Asami. What possessed you to even think of making me your f-fi… f-fiancée?"

A faint line of weariness appeared on Asami's usual impassive face. "A royal invitation was sent to me. The King has requested for my presence at the party in _Celebration of the Throne_. Background checks are done on everyone who is in attendance. He knows that I have a lover. Rumors generated from the mess in Hong Kong have spread like wild fire. It would be considered an act of disrespect if you weren't there with me."

"So your great plan is to _lie_ to him? Such a genius you are…" Sarcasm dripped from each word. Akihito retreated rapidly when the older man took a big step forward. His heel knocked softly against the back of the couch.

"Don't be difficult Akihito. Just treat this as playing your part in securing your elderly life fund. Maybe then, you will learn to accept my money graciously." Asami chided amusedly. His hand shot out.

"Don't start it, you bastard. You know I'll never take your money." Akihito hastily jumped over the couch when Asami made to grab him. _Phew, that was close. _"So, since I don't want my pension, why don't we just give up on this small conquest, pack up and go home?"

"I was invited by royalty. To refuse would be folly on my part. Besides," Asami smirked, "it wouldn't hurt to invest a little."

Akihito rolled his eyes. "You just want to use the Casino to expand your drug routes. I'm not an idiot, Asami."

The temperature in the room took a plunge when the older man narrowed his eyes at the accusation. Akihito gulped. _Uh oh. Sensitive topic… _He nervously changed the subject. "W-why can't I just go as I am?"

The tense atmosphere cleared instantly and Asami fell back into his playful demeanor. The yakuza raised an eyebrow.

"… If I wore one of your unnecessarily expensive tailored suits?"

A look that evicted skepticism was thrown in his direction.

Akihito threw his arms up. "Fine! If that's how you want to play it. I'll just make myself scarce at the celebration tomorrow. Watching your head roll would be extremely satisfying. "

"We both know why you can't show up as my male lover." Asami shifted, rounding the edge of the couch. Akihito skittered in time with Asami, making sure the couch was always in between them.

The journalist pursed his lips. He knew the reason why. Morocco was inhabited mostly by Sunni Muslims. Homosexual relationships were strictly taboo. Disrespecting the King was one thing, but to make light of their rigorous faith was something far more serious. There would be uproar. Not only would they be executed for their insolence, they would be humiliated publicly before that.

However, Akihito was unwilling to give up this fight.

"Why didn't you just-"

"- bring a female along instead?"

Akihito frowned when Asami completed the sentence for him.

"You'd feel jealous, wouldn't you?" Asami smirked.

Akihito's rebuttal was immediate. "What? Don't get ahead of yourself, asshole. Who would? Why don't you just admit that there's not a single Japanese woman who wants to spend time with your insufferable self?"

They were still circling the three-seat leather couch. Asami suddenly stopped, and Akihito followed suit. The yakuza was now in front of the couch while the photographer stood at the back.

Deep down, Akihito knew that what he had just said were _all-_

"Lies, Akihito. Even if you don't show it, I know the jealousy would gnaw away at your naïve little heart each time any woman throws herself on me." Asami paused, as if in contemplation. "In fact, why don't I spend the night recounting my sexual conquests? Just to prove you wrong. Night is falling, time for your bedtime story, brat."

Akihito flushed and he spat out, "Nobody wants your messed up bedti- WOAH!"

The younger man's head spun from the impact of hitting the soft cushion. Shit. The bastard had pulled him over the couch by his arms. Shaking out of his daze, Akihito became acutely aware of Asami looming over him. Two well-developed arms were placed on either side of his head while Asami's knees dipped into the cushion on both sides of his hips.

Asami had him trapped. The leer that Asami was giving him told him the insatiable jerk knew it too. Now that the cat and mouse game has ended, Asami was going to savour his meal slowly, down to the very _last_ bite. Akihito took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come.

"Be a good boy, Akihito, and I'll make my stories extremely _pleasurable_ for you. Lulling you into a deep sleep wouldn't be much of a problem." Asami whispered huskily into Akihito's ear.

Akihito made an awkward sound, a mixture of a snort and a moan.

_Yeah, your 'stories' would definitely wear me out._

He felt Asami lick his collarbone, preparing to stake his claim on the boy.

"WAIT!"

The wet muscle paused.

"Um…"

Impatient, Asami's tongue resumed its activity.

"Nooooo. Nnn. I-if we're g-goi-, aah, …-ing back to the… hahh… god damned f-female shop, d-don't leave mar- …aaaah… marks." Akihito breathed shakily, body arching into Asami.

The only response he got was two consecutive savage bites and Akihito choked on his scream.

At the rate they were going, there was no way he was going to be able to meet the eyes of the staff tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Light bounced off the reflective surface, causing it to gleam brightly. Akihito squinted at the sudden assault on his eyes. That mirror was seriously way too huge. <em>Why would anybody need such a humungous mirror? <em>

They were back in the boutique, with Asami waiting outside and Akihito in the dressing room. The young photographer fidgeted nervously. Now that he knew the reason for Asami's sudden craze to doll him up, it unsettled him more so than ever. Just imagine the consequences if he slipped up. Akihito groaned miserably. Appearances could be deceiving, but the way he carried himself would be a dead give away. Crude and ungraceful, it screamed of masculinity.

Sometimes, Akihito wishes he had the power to command the earth to split and swallow Asami Ryuichi up. … Scratch that. Akihito preferred if the earth could just swallow him up.

_Now._

(He wouldn't put it pass Asami to rise as a devil to deliver punishment, ten folds more.)

He'd rather be wiped off the surface of the earth with a method of his own doing than die at the hands of another man. Namely, the King of Morocco.

Akihito winced when a particularly sharp tug pulled him momentarily out of his suicidal musings. _Did Lutfiyah really have to tighten the Sfifa that much?_

From the start of their rocky, uncertain relationship, the young man had come to accept the fact that he would be tossed into a lot of life-threatening situations by the stupid, arrogant prick. He had mentally prepared himself so damn well that it would probably make his mother cry with joy at the sheer hard work he had willingly put in for the first time in his life. However, stupid, STUPID Asami had to, t-to just ruin EVERYTHING!

Everything the man did always threw him off. Of all situations the man had chosen to drag him into, it just had to be _this_ one. He had prepared himself to fight thugs, gangsters and _more thugs_. This was simply too unforeseeable for Akihito. Royalty was a class on its own, at the very top of the hierarchy. Granted, Asami belonged to a class of elites, wielding a power that could shake economies effortlessly. However, people, by convention, didn't just step out of their caste and associate with those above or below.

Akihito snorted. Who was he kidding? Despite belonging to the class below Asami, he had been mingling in Asami's crowd for as long as he could remember. Feilong, Mikhail, various club managers and all of Asami's business associates (who either tried to kidnap, murder or feel him up). His fate had been sealed the very night he eluded the man by doing the unexpected, jumping off the roof.

If Asami had willingly stepped out of his caste boundary to claim Akihito, despite public whispers of disapproval, it shouldn't really have came as a surprise when the egoistic man decided to toe the line and cross the path of someone of a higher status. The very essence of Asami personified unconventionality. Traditions and societal code of conduct meant little to the man.

People said Asami was a man of ambitions, taking risks in confident strides, every move calculated meticulously in order to guarantee his successful rise to the top. Akihito used to believe it wholeheartedly, until now. It seemed like Asami was finally slipping up, losing himself to the thrill of conquering an overzealous ambition.

Whatever that Asami wanted from the Casino deal, this was just plain irrational. Akihito sighed in resignation. It was too late to regret anyway. There was no use crying over spilt milk. He just hoped Asami had an escape plan if it turned out badly.

_The things that I do for him…_

* * *

><p><em>Celebration of the Throne. <em>It was a festival to celebrate the day of the accession of the current King. Even in the limousine, Akihito could feel the veneration the Moroccans had for their King. There were parades everywhere. Merry-making parades, formal military parades. Dancers, dressed in tight, midriff-baring sequined tops and loose pants, moved sensually, each hip swing accompanied by fluid hand movements. The solemn air around the soldiers would provide a contrast, marching dutifully after the dancing procession. On looking Moroccans cheered with gusto, the light-hearted cacophony resounding throughout the entire town.

Akihito sighed. He could have been out there, capturing the endearing moments on film. Instead, he was stuck with Asami, pretending to be someone he was not. To be honest, despite his apprehension, Akihito felt excited. After all, it wasn't everyday that he was presented with an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to partake in the regal celebration and, unlike those people on the streets, he would be able to meet the chosen one, born with royal blood.

Realisation sat in. He was going to meet a _King_. The real thing. In flesh. Akihito gulped silently, fingers fiddling with the fabric of this orange _Takchita_ nervously.

A hand snaked around his waist, pulling Akihito towards Asami's side. A light-hearted whisper. "Nervous?"

Akihito tried to push away. "N-no. A-absolutely n-not."

"You're trembling." Akihito rolled his eyes when Asami stated the obvious. The firm arm refused to budge.

"S'y-your i-imagination." Came Akihito's stubborn whisper.

Akihito's shaky breath hitched when he felt a slow pressure sliding down his arm. "W-hat are y-you doing?"

"Helping you relax." Asami's voice rumbled pleasantly.

Akihito squirmed. "N-no." He felt Asami's hot breath caressing his neckline. "S-stop. We won't h-have time to c-change."

An amused chuckle. "That wasn't my intention." Akihito froze. _Oh no._ "However, since you're so willing for a change, I'll happily oblige." The pressure lifted from his arm. Without missing a heartbeat, Asami hiked his skirt, skilful hand massaging his thigh sensually.

Akihito moaned. "Aaa..." A desperate plea. "Nooo…P-please A-sami…" He buried his head in Asami's suit and gave a muffled whine. "Ex-pensive… f-fabric…" To Akihito's surprise, Asami relented.

Two fingers gripped his chin firmly, tilting his head to meet Asami's amused gaze. "Then kiss me."

Akihito narrowed his eyes with distrust.

"Just a kiss, nothing more, nothing less," promised Asami.

"That's all?"

"That's all." Asami's solemn affirmation reassured Akihito.

With trembling hands, Akihito clutched the fabric of Asami's suit, steadying himself as he climbed onto his knees. He gave a shy, tentative peck and hurriedly drew back. Asami wasn't having it.

Held immobile by the neck, Akihito was devoured. Two sets of hot lips mashed into one, tongues dancing wildly. Akihito gave a sultry moan when Asami sucked on his tongue. All thoughts fled the young man. His nervousness and woes replaced with instinctual want for the older man.

They broke apart, a thin trail of saliva connecting the separating appendages.

Akihito braced himself on the older man's broad frame, shivering with need. "Asami…"

Asami smirked. "Relaxed?"

Embarrassed, Akihito turned his head to the side, avoiding the cool gaze. "Nnn…"

Awkwardly, Akihito released the man's suit. He winced at the wrinkles. "Um… Sorry…"

A well-placed tug and Asami was back into his impeccable self. _Such a perfectionist. Go figure._

Akihito clumsily tried to smooth his own _Takchita_.

"Better hurry Akihito, we're reaching."

Akihito grew frantic.

Deciding he had teased the poor boy enough, Asami pushed Akihito's grappling hands away and assisted with the assembly of a perfect _Takchita._

The limousine slowed to a stop. Suoh opened the door, bowing slightly as Asami stepped out sleekly.

Asami extended a hand, chivalrously helping a blushing Akihito out.

Upon stepping out, Akihito gaped. This was beyond his wildest dream. The building that stood before him was … ridiculously huge. (and lavishly decorated) Light poured out from the hall, lighting up the grand steps that led up to the main entrance. Behind the dance hall, the rest of the palace sprawled out, it's vastness emphasized by the ember glow from the deep orange setting sun.

Kirishima coughed, bringing Akihito back to reality. Collecting himself, he let himself be steered towards the palace (or rather, _small_ part of the palace) by Asami, who had snugly wrapped his arm around his waist. Kirishima and Suoh trailed behind dutifully.

Lutfiyah's teachings from the hurried crash course resounded in his head.

_Moderately small steps._

_Heels first. Don't lift feet too high._

_Arms relaxed, palms towards thighs._

_Point toes straight._

_Place feet directly to the side of an imaginary centre line. _

He heard Asami's rumble of approval. Akihito sighed in relief as they ascended the steps.

When they passed security checks, Akihito squinted at the bright lights pouring forth from glittering, crystal chandeliers.

A pair of Moroccan couples came forward to greet them. As Asami conversed fluently in French, Akihito chanted his possibly life-saving mantra.

_Head up, chin parallel to floor._

_Shoulders back, dropped relaxingly._

_Chest high._

_Stomach in._

_Tilt pelvis slightly forward and up._

_Don't lock knees._

_Elbows slightly bent, palms turned in._

All checked. Mission 'Perfect, feminine, regal posture' accomplished.

Pre-occupied with his obsessive mental chanting, Akihito remained completely oblivious to stares of jealousy, lust and awe thrown in his direction. Passing men would double back to stare at the beauty of Japanese origins while women would curse from a far, envious of how one bearing a different nationality could fit into their native costume so perfectly.

In Asami's case however, he was extremely aware of all the gazes given to him and his 'fiancée'. They were the only Japanese couple present after all. Naturally, interest would be piqued. Asami amused himself with the cast-fallen looks when he held Akihito tighter.

Startled by the sudden movement, Akihito gave Asami a quizzical look. _Was he doing something wrong? Maybe sticking his chest out too much wasn't such a good idea…_

Asami tilted his head, gesturing to the crowd of nobles. Akihito frowned and took a look. _Why the hell were there so many people staring at them? Or more specifically at him. Was he found out already?_

Feeling the quickened pulse of his lovely 'fiancée', Asami leaned in, "You're beautiful, my dear _Tierboskat_. And they think so too."

Akihito visibly relaxed and blushed. When five more couples came over to introduce themselves, Akihito strained to maintain his posture.

"Hey Asami, when does this thing end? My hips are starting to ache."

"When we're finished with the formalities."

"What formalities?"

"Walking, greeting and then finishing up with a meet-and-greet session with the King."

"Wait, … everyone?"

"No, just the head of each noble family."

"You jest, there has got to be a hundred pompous asses to greet."

"Language Akihito, there are people who can understand Japanese. Now, shush, the King is going to make his appearance."

True to his words, the lights dimmed, the only spotlight falling on three gold crusted throne chairs. Silence fell upon the hall and a slow fanfare erupted from a line of trumpeters. The King, clad in stiff imperial uniform walked in, exuding power and charisma. His Queen glided next to him, a figure of cultivated grace and elegance. Lastly, the crown prince, possibly only twelve years of age, took his place, reining an air of royalty similar to his parents.

Polite applause, accompanied by reverent calls of "Your Majesty" reverberated in the hall. A short speech was delivered by the King and when all three royalties took their seats, the lights were switched back on. Small talk among the hall's occupants resumed.

"Come Akihito, let's complete our round, shall we? Pompous asses, as you have so elegantly put, will not come flocking to us small fries after all."

Akihito didn't know if he should laugh or feel terrified. _Asami? Small fry?_ Akihito snorted, paying attention to the feminine edge it should have. _Someone must have a death wish._

By the time Akihito faced the thirtieth head, his facial muscles ached from the plastered smile. In fact, his entire body ached. Being a woman was hard. Akihito was feeling a newfound respect for the other sex. _Why can't Asami keep a greeting short?_

The thirty-first head. _Ugh, Asami was going to have to do this one alone._ "Hey, Asami, I'll go get us some drinks alright?" Not waiting for a reply, Akihito quickly dislodged himself from the man and staggered as gracefully as he could to a waiter (the furthest one he could find) bearing a tray of beverage.

Asami's eyes trailed after Akihito. He gave Kirishima a pointed look and his secretary nodded, disappearing into the crowd with Akihito.

Akihito took two glasses of black-coloured liquid (he wasn't very sure what they were, probably some high class beverage that cost a few thousand dollars) from a blushing waiter. A cool breeze caressed Akihito's cheek.

_Fresh air. Just what I need._ As Akihito started towards the empty balcony, Kirishima's tall frame loomed over him. "Takaba Akihito, Asami-sama awaits your return."

Akihito frowned. _Overprotective bastard. _"C'mon Kirishima, all that formality bullshit is driving me nuts."

"I have strict orders, Takaba"

"You're not the one in female garb," Akihito pointed out, deadpanned. The strict man seemed to waver a little. _Yes, just a little bit more. _"Just five minutes?" Akihito donned his most pitiful, pleading puppy eyes.

Kirishima sighed, relenting. "Just five minutes." Akihito grinned victoriously.

The young male sighed and leaned against the marble rails, relaxing into the cool, evening breeze. The two glasses sat next to him. "Hey Kirishima, how many more before Asami's done?"

"About ten more. Asami-sama should have finished introductions with the next fifteen on the list by now."

Akihito blinked. "How? Five minutes have hardly passed. The bastard always takes ten minutes for each stuck-up noble."

Kirishima coughed. "You were a … distraction, Takaba. Asami is always questioned if Japanese females were … of this caliber. Many wanted a prospective bride for their future heir."

Akihito breathed in. That explained why all the male heads were checking him out. He had been wondering why Asami hadn't blown up yet. Him being a possessive bastard and all.

A beep from Kirishima's watch had him glancing over.

"Your five minutes are up. If you would please proceed this way." Kirishima clicked his watch alarm off.

"Noooooo. You didn't have to be so precise. One more minute? Pretty please?" Akihito batted his eyelashes, extensions adding to the effect.

Wordlessly, Kirishima offered an arm, cold beverage in the other. Akihito scowled. "Don't treat me like a female." (_A/n: Notice the irony? It was entirely unintentional. Really. Honestly)_

"It's only proper conduct, Takaba. This act has to go on till the end."

The photographer sighed and grudgingly moved to slip his hand under Kirishima's arm. However, before they could proceed back to Asami, two Moroccan nobles stumbled over, obviously drunk. Trouble started to brew.

"Hey, Japanese!" Akihito recognized the language, despite the heavy slur and Moroccan accent. English.

Kirishima moved over to guard him when the drunken man slurred out. "Geisha!" Akihito narrowed his eyes. _Weren't Muslims supposed to avoid alcohol consumption?_

"Don't be shy. C'mere. Entertain us." Akihito's command of English wasn't good either. It didn't really mattered anyway. The suggestive gestures told him a lot about their ill-natured intentions. _So much for rigorous faith._

Akihito chewed on his bottom lip. As much as he was furious, he couldn't risk raising a ruckus. His life was at stake. He glanced worriedly at the tense secretary. Akihito knew the man wouldn't hesitate to lash out. Protecting his boss's 'fiancée' is his top priority.

The first Moroccan waved a hand at Kirishima. "Hey you, big man. Away! I want to speak to the little missy." Unlike Akihito, Kirishima understood English perfectly. He spoke as politely as he could. "My sincerest apologies, my mistress does not like to mingle."

The second man, in his drunken stupor, took offense. "Obey, you with filthy blood. People of lower class have no rights around here." Kirishima gritted his teeth. "My master would be displeased."

Obviously furious with the lack of cooperation, both men raised their arms, ready to bring down the living obstacle between them and the ethereal Japanese gem. "Why you-… !" Before anything could happen, the two threatening hands were restrained firmly by two shadows.

A cold, emotionless voice sliced the intense air. "Extremely displeased."

"Asami!" Akihito breathed a sigh of relief.

Asami tossed the drunkard to the other hulking shadow. Suoh caught him effortlessly and steered both troublemakers into the hall, handing them over to the guards stationed nearby.

As he caught a relieved Akihito into a small embrace, Asami nodded towards Kirishima. "Good work." Kirishima bowed, offering Asami his drink.

Akihito breathed in Asami's musky scent. Calm washed over him. Glancing up, he questioned the older man who was sipping his drink coolly. "You're done?"

Asami looked down. "All of them, except the King, you need to be present." Akihito gave an inaudible sigh. "You were taking such a long time, I decided to come over and fetch you. A good thing, is it not?"

"Hnn…" Asami let a small flicker of concern pass through his eyes at Akihito's subdued response. "Exhausted?"

"No…" Akihito slumped into Asami's large, comforting frame, action betraying his words.

Asami smirked. "Since you have that much energy left, would you let me have your first dance, milady?" Passing his glass back to Kirishima, Asami took Akihito's hand, brought it gently up to his lips before pulling the flabbergasted man to the dance floor.

"Huh? W-wait! Asami! Lutfiyah didn't teach me how to dance!"

Asami ignored the protests. As they neared the dance floor, Akihito panic was apparent. Pulling Akihito close to him, he whispered soothingly. "You'll be fine, just follow my lead."

He placed Akihito's hand on his shoulder before grabbing the man's svelte waist. Their free hands entwined firmly together, Asami gave Akihito one last smirk before whisking his lover onto the dance floor.

_Oh my god. I hate you, Asami Ryuichi!_

Asami 3 Akihito 1

* * *

><p>Oh gosh. I thought this chapter would never end… Sorry for the long wait.<p>

Anyway, finally done. Yay!

Can't believe I actually googled 'how to walk like a lady'. Haha. And I tried it. Omg, I looked like a total retard! So three cheers for Akihito! He's a fast learner!

Btw, in order to not cause any confusion, it's important to note that I'm not using the actual royal family for various reasons. (e.g. I, like Akihito, want my head to _stay_ mounted on my shoulders) You never know right? **BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU!**

Thanks for the helping me out with the polls. :D (Apparently qns 3 was a redundant qns. I know right? What is a VF fic w/o sex? *laughs*)

And again, thanks for reading and reviewing!

God speed.

P.s. Wrote this dead in the middle of the night, I apologise for any grammatical errors I might have unknowingly made.


	6. 5: Touring Fez part 1

**Disclaimer: The same usual one**

Violinists delicately pulled one last note, tossing it high into the aristocratic air as the melodious waltz dimmed slowly. Once it settled lightly on the rumbling metallic echo of gold trombones, Akihito tore himself away from Asami, who followed him, smirking as they weaved through the crowd of dancing nobles gathered under the warm rutilant lights of marble chandeliers.

Akihito snatched his drink from Asami's bodyguard and downed it quickly in one gulp. The flustered man huffed, rudely tossing the empty glass to a nearby waiter. Prim and proper secretary, Kirishima, peered over his glasses disapprovingly when Akihito roughly wiped the remaining liquid from the edge of his mouth with his palm. He made to reprimand his boss' lover's ungraceful behaviour, however, as soon as Asami sauntered forward into hearing range, Kirishima wisely closed his mouth and dipped his head, offering Asami a glass of water.

"I'm exhausted, my hips ache and my feet are sore! And it's All. Your. Fault." Three jabs from Akihito's meticulously manicured finger to Asami's chest served to emphasize his accusation.

Asami took a sip from his glass and chuckled. "If it's any consolation, my toes hurt too." Akihito's face, tinged with pink exhaustion, turned a brilliant shade of red. Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

"Serves you right…" Akihito mumbled, twisting his head to the side to avert Asami's amused gaze and Kirishima's interrogative eyes. Silence fell over the group of men. As it dragged on, Akihito shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "… I'm sorry."

"What for, Akihito?" The repentant young man grimaced at his lover's feigned ignorance, betrayed by the hint of humour.

"…"

Akihito gave a forced effort to lock his eyes with Asami's. Mustering up a vicious glare, he hissed spitefully, "For stepping on your toes, you Jerk!"

Another amused chuckle had Akihito teetering along the edge. "Don't blame yourself, Akihito. One doesn't learn how to dance overnight. Especially those of your…caliber."

"Why yo-" Akihito's indignant retort was cut short when he spotted a guard stiffly marching over from a far. He fumbled, clumsily donning a smiling mask to conceal his raging face and wriggled into Asami's waiting arm. The well-ornamented soldier gave a smart salute to the loving Japanese couple mirage.

"Mr. Asami, His Majesty requests for your presence." The soldier extended an arm, "This way, Monsieur." An eye flickered appreciatively towards Akihito. "Mademoiselle." Asami's eyes flashed dangerously, impelling the terrified soldier to take interest in his feet for the rest of the way towards his King.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Asami turned his attention to his 'fiancée'. A smirk tugged on Asami's lips when he picked up on Akihito's barely audible groan. The nervous cross-dresser's form unconsciously tensed as they neared the throne. A soothing circular rub around the hips had him relaxing slightly. "Relax Akihito, he won't bite."

Akihito released a soft snort. They gave a synchronized respectful bow before the King and as Asami conversed fluidly in French, Akihito carefully shaped his mouth into a sweet smile whilst reciting Lutfiyah's words of wisdom in his head, praying hard that the King's sharp eyes didn't notice anything amiss.

_Head up, chin parallel to floor._

_Shoulders back, dropped relaxingly._

_Chest high._

_Stomach in._

_Tilt pelvis slightly forward and up._

_Don't lock knees._

_Elbows slightly bent, palms turned in._

Occasionally, the curious young 'fiancée' would break away from his mantra to sneak an inconspicuous glimpse at the figures of royalty, taking in the different images of each form. The King exuded a friendly, cheery aura akin to a joyful old man. However, hardened eyes warned enemies he was no pushover. (Akihito held his breath when those eyes raked over his disguise) The Queen's aura contrasted with her husband's. Serious and intimidating she was, truly the essence of a 'woman of steel'. The prince took after his father, childish and playful and yet the powerful air of a crown prince was undeniable. (Akihito smile turned genuine when the little boy gave a small sprightly wave, much to the disapproval of his mother) Together, their auras weaved and merged, forming an atmosphere of intense commanding power that had been wielded by their predecessors since ancient times.

"Je vous remercie, Votre Majesté." A gentle finger tap to his hip cued Akihito to give another appreciative bow. "Come Akihito, time for us to depart." As Asami steered Akihito away and towards the large heavy doors of the hall, Akihito glanced up curiously.

"What did you talk about?"

Asami replied, satisfaction reverberating in each word. "Scheduling a business dinner with the King, amongst other things."

"When?"

"The day after tomorrow."

Akihito grinned widely. "Does that mean we can go sightseeing tomorrow?"

"Yes, brat. A business associate of mine will be taking us around." The corner of Asami's lips twitched when Akihito's enthusiasm exploded.

As Akihito vibrantly ranted on about the landmarks in Fez he had once seen in a travel brochure, Asami spared a few words of parting to aristocrats they met along the way, occasionally nodding to some of the comments his 'fiancée' made.

Akihito released a noise of realization. "Where's Suoh and Kirishima?"

"Kirishima went to get the car. Suoh's taking care of … unfinished business."

Not missing the slight delay in Asami's reply, Akihito hazel eyes lighted with curiosity and prodded deeper. "Unfinished business?"

"Just tying up loose ends, nothing that concerns you."

An image of a looming shadow, fist punching palm, towering over quivering lumps of aristocrats came to mind. Akihito narrowed his eyes. "You didn't blackmail people into 'donating' half of their fortunes to you, did you?

"Come now Akihito, do you really think I would do that at a social event? There are rules pertaining to social etiquette that even I must follow."

Akihito grumbled as they descended the stairs, disappointed that Asami did not give away even the slightest of things. They met the two missing bodyguards at the bottom of the steps. Suoh, who dutifully opened the door, looked strangely _happy_. As far as passer-bys were concerned, the stoic face of Suoh's betrayed none of his emotions. However, Akihito was different. Enough time spent in Asami's company enabled him to read the emotionless bodyguard like a book. (Well, the only times he succeeded was when the emotions of the hulking mountain were too intense to completely hide under that mask, but that's beside the point.)

In that regard, to say Suoh was happy was an understatement. Suoh was _very_ happy. It was the kind of morbid happy satisfaction one gained after beating other human beings into pulp or in some serious cases, puree. Akihito was familiar with that vibe, after all, in his teens, he often partook in gang fights before Yama-oyaji came along to pull him down the path of youth reforms, by the ear.

As they slid into the sleek black limousine, Akihito turned to Asami and commented. "You really did blackmail somebody, didn't you? Suoh looked like he just punched the living daylights out of somebody."

"Talking to new acquaintances does that to him sometimes." Asami gave a dismissive shrug. "More importantly Akihito, does your sister intend to marry that boyfriend of hers?"

"Huh? My sister isn't attached. You did a background check on my entire family. You should know … best…" Asami waited patiently for the fact to sink in. Akihito grabbed Asami's arm in disbelief. "It's not real, is it? Please tell me it isn't true."

The pointed look on Asami's sculptured face triggered Akihito's sister complex. "Oh My God! No! My innocent little Hi-chan! Take me home Asami! I'm going to punch that deceiving bastard!"

Asami serenely observed Akihito as he listed down 101 secret murder techniques, arms swinging about animatedly in demonstration. His wildcat could really come up with some interesting methods of human disposal. He could use some of those in the future. Tossing dead bodies into the Tokyo Bay was such a cliché that it hurts sometimes.

Akihito huffed angrily. "Why do you want to know anyway?"

"Hmm? Nothing much. Just that the King seemed to have recently taken an interest in Asian beauties." A bated breath. Akihito didn't like where this was going. "Since you're already taken…" _No. Please. No._ "Would your sister like to live in Morocco's inner royal seraglio?"

Akihito erupted. "Bastar-" With little effort, Asami caught the angry fist swinging towards his face. "Such a pity. The King was so taken with you." A sharp pull caused Akihito to find himself sprawling into the lap of the older man, lips captured in a whirling, passionate kiss.

"Nnn…" Akihito's temper subsided together with the depleting oxygen in his lungs. When they broke apart unwillingly for air, Asami sent a low chuckle down his adorable pet's ear. "Beauty is such a sin, is it not Akihito?"

Akihito grunted breathlessly in disagreement, not quite ready to speak. Asami's low, sensual baritone voice continued to send tremors down his spine. "It's true. Look at how many has fallen at your feet tonight." Akihito's eyes widened. "Little slut."

The young man shook his head frantically in denial, hands clutching at the fabric of Asami's suit as if to transmit his thoughts to the teasing man. Asami smirked, drawing his large hands languidly down the spine of the shivering form. "Seduction. What fearsome power you wield Akihito. You beckon men forward and make them lose all reason and self-control, just like the two who lusted over you. A succubus-incarnate, Takaba, that is what you are."

Widened cloudy hazel eyes met with seductive gold orbs. A finger ghosted over the growing bulge under the silky Takchita. "Anybody would do, wouldn't it? As long as they satisfied this little one here." A deliberate rub had Akihito moaning with want, bringing his hips forward to feel more of Asami's touch.

"Look at me Akihito." Akihito squinted, forcing himself to focus on Asami's face through the lust-ridden haze. "Who do you belong to?"

A barely audible mumble.

"What was that?"

"Nobody. …" Akihito took a deep breath. "And certainly not you!" Defiance shone from the depths of the murky hazel iris.

Asami narrowed his eyes and slid his hands underneath the finely threaded skirt, fingers slipping into the boxers Akihito wore, already wet with desire. As he dipped his fingers into the crack of the round bottom, Asami issued his last warning. "Let me ask again. Who do you belong solely to, Takaba Akihito?"

Akihito stared at Asami steadily, challenging him. A finger plunged into the dry orifice, tearing a scream from the boy. A few rough thrusts had Akihito sobbing in pain, fingers clenching tightly at Asami's suit. "Ready to answer, Takaba?"

Whimpering, Akihito shifted, trying to find pleasure in the scorching pain. Asami made sure his finger never met with Akihito's sweet spot as he plunged through the ring of muscles repeatedly, rubbing the insides raw. Akihito growled with agonized frustration, sweat collecting at the tips of his starched fringe. Gritting his teeth, he fought the urge to blurt out the answer that would end Asami's cruelty.

Asami sighed. "Stubborn boy."

Another finger joined the other, stretching Akihito painfully. Akihito gasped at the sudden additional intrusion. Resolve broken, he buried his head into Asami's shoulder before snarling out bitterly "Damn it! You!"

"Good kitty."

With renewed vigor, Asami buried three fingers into Akihito's ass, striking the bundle of nerves that sent his feisty lover moaning wantonly. "Hear me Akihito, only I can touch you." A tweak to an erect nipple through fabric. "Only I can kiss you." A savage bite to full bottom red lip. "And only I can embrace you." A forceful thrust sent Akihito over the edge, spilling his seed, soiling the beautiful costume he wore.

"Do you understand me, Akihito?" The spent young man simply slumped bonelessly into Asami's chest, breathing heavily. "No matter how many men come for you, you will not allow them to touch you. Nor are you allowed to touch them. I will not allow it. Even if it means defying the deities."

Akihito shivered under the possessive threat, curling up into the warmth Asami provided. A gentle hand stroked the top of his head, lulling him into a well-deserved sleep. "You belong to me Akihito. Now till forever."

Too tired to retort, Akihito allowed sleep to claim his fatigue-self, Asami's words echoing deep in his slumber.

* * *

><p>"<em>Come, leave that man, Akihito"<em>

_Akihito jumped at the icy bodiless voice. "Who are you?"_

_A cold hand circled Akihito's waist, pulling him backwards. Akihito flinched when his back came in contact with a cold chest._

_Akihito tried to push away. "Release me!"_

"_Feisty." The man commented. "Tell me Akihito, why you would want such a pococurante man. He wanted to sell your sister to me, did he not? There's no guarantee that he would never do the same to you."_

"_Asami wouldn't." The stubborn reply had the man laughing. The iciness of it sent a shiver down his spine._

"_Really now? Not even when he grows tired of you?"_

_Akihito frowned at the possibility. It was true. There was no telling when the yakuza might lose interest in him._

'_**You belong to me Akihito. Now till forever.'** Akihito's recollection gave him confidence. "He would never!"_

_The figure seemed to accept his loss, contemplating for a moment before switching his style of persuasion. "Come to me, Akihito, I could provide you with so much more. Money, clothes, food. There is nothing that my kingdom cannot give to you. I have much more power and resources to please you as compared to that man you call your lover."_

_Akihito struggled. "No!"_

"_No? Ah. Perhaps it is not material mammonism that you want, but sexual desire." Another hand came to join the other, sliding down his stomach to his pelvis._

_Asami's words echoed._ **'**_**No matter how many men come for you, you will not allow them to touch you. Nor are you allowed to touch them.'**_

_Eyes widened and Akihito writhed with more effort, trying to pull away from the stranger. "Stop! Lemme go!"_

_A cold laughter. "Stop? Liar. Look, your body is reacting so well." Akihito looked down, horrified with his erection, pre-cum already dripping from the top. _

_Akihito shook his head disbelievingly. "It's a dream. I wouldn't… " He trembled as the hand came to grip his cock. "No! A-Asami!"_

_The shadow behind him exuded an air of displeasure. "Still calling for him? What an eyesore. Would you choose me if I erased him?"_

_Akihito blinked when a bright light fell upon the spot before him. There knelt Asami, chained and bleeding. "A-akihito…"_

"_Asami!" Akihito tried to lunge forward but the arm held him in place._

_Click. _

"_Let's get rid of this obstacle between us shall we?" _

"_N-no!" Akihito desperately clawed at the hand pointing the gun towards his lover. He turned back to plead. _

_From the faceless shadow, Akihito identified a row of white teeth accompanied with one glowing red eye. "Say your goodbye Akihito." His captor smile grew insanely gleeful. "It's your last to him."_

_The gun fired off. "ASAMI!"_

Akihito lunged upright, panting heavily. "Asami?" He twisted sharply to the awoken man lying beside him. Shaking hands traveled across the older man's body, searching for the gunshot wound.

Asami gripped the trembling hands. "Calm down Akihito. It was just a dream."

"A- … a d-dream?" Akihito gave a shaky laugh. "Y-yeah. It was j-just a dream."

A force pulled him back down. "Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

Akihito curled back into Asami's side, muttering tiredly. "Just a dream…safe… Asami…"

Asami frowned, stroking the top of his lover's head. It looked like the aftereffects of the Hong Kong trip still hadn't worn off. Akihito's nightmares weren't surprising. It often happened right in the middle of his slumber, jerking awake screaming about guns and blood. It had become a routine for the blond.

There was, however, something that had recently begun to change. Instead of Akihito waking to examine his own body frantically, he would turn to Asami, grappling the older man's torso, searching for injuries. (Asami would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little smug about it) Satisfied after a thorough check, the boy would go back to sleep, waking up the next day with no knowledge of what had transpired the night before.

Although the frequency was decreasing as time passed, Asami still wished he could help Akihito to get over his trauma more quickly. However, the yakuza knew it was something that Akihito had to overcome on his own. He could only be there to assure the traumatized boy he would always be with him and that not even death would be able to pull them apart.

Asami ran a hand through his black hair, sighing deeply before relaxing, following his lover back to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Asami! Look!" Akihito tugged at the businessman's sleeves, pointing eagerly at the run down house honored with the title <em>Dar al-Magana<em>. "That used to be a water clock! Isn't it cool? Musashi-san said there used to be twelve brass bowls sitting on those platforms and one metal ball would be dropped into the bowl from the window above to signal each hour."

Asami hummed in agreement, trailing after the enthusiastic photographer who was snapping shot after shot with a camera which he had so kindly gave the boy earlier in the morning. With a price, of course. Asami was satisfied with the slight limp in Akihito's walking pattern.

"If you would turn to your right, that building is known as _Médersa Bou Inania_, the most beautiful of all _Merenid_ monuments. It was built by Abou Inan, the sultan famous for committing gruesome murders and fathering 325 sons." Akihito whistled. _325 sons? Just how many wives did he have then?_

Tanaka Musashi was their acting tour guide today. He was a plump middle-aged man, slightly balding at the top of his head. (Akihito thought Musashi looked a little too weak to be associating with Asami. Poor man looked like he would go down with one kick to the gut. Must be one of Asami's disposal pawns.) The man had confessed when Asami was out of earshot, that he got acquainted with Asami when the businessman came down personally to get rid of his gang trespassing on his turf. Once again, like wife like husband, do not judge a book by its cover. Musashi was the leader of a small well-known yakuza gang. It took Asami an _entire week _to squish his entire gang, composed of a meager thirty people. The man seemed to be quite pleased with his accomplishment.

"Hey! I've heard of this place from one of the models I worked with. It was supposedly built on top of a garbage dump wasn't it?" Akihito peered through the large doorway skeptically.

Musashi laughed heartily. "Yes, it's hard to believe alright. Not with the amazing architecture of this place. Legend has it that when religious elders criticized the Sultan for marrying a prostitute, he erected this magnificent building on top of a garbage dump. When the elders praised the fine design of the Médersa, he told them, "As from garbage comes beauty, so now my wife has become pure." An interesting tale of love from the most unlikely man.

Come, we can enter this religious sanctuary. It is the only one open to non-Muslims." Akihito squealed with delight, bounding forward through the concrete doorway, pressing the shutter of his camera eagerly.

Musashi turned to Asami. "You've found one with an appreciative eye. Although, quite average looking I must say. Just what about him caught your eye?"

"He jumped off a rooftop," provided Asami nonchalantly, ad rem.

Musashi's eyes bulged out. "Your interests are as strange as always."

Asami smirked, walking towards Akihito who had paused in his photographing activities to examine the cedar beam carvings. "Asami! Asami! Take a look! These were all carved by hand." He trailed the indents of the intricate, detailed carvings gently with a finger.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Hell yeah! Have you seen those walls? They're filled with handcrafted Stuccos. The Arabic calligraphy over there is really sweet too. And the marble floors… Oh my god, Asami, we're in heaven!" Asami gave a small smile, pleased with the joyful energy overflowing from Akihito, an antipode of the subdued, frightened persona the night before.

Missing the barely noticeable curve of Asami's lips, Akihito felt greatly unsatisfied with the lack of appreciation for the wonders of art from the older man. He puffed his cheeks out adorably and proceeded to drag Asami around to each and every geometrical motif covering the walls, launching into a lecture on how to find the best angle when shooting a photo in order to showcase the best in the object that was being photographed.

* * *

><p>French translations:<p>

Je vous remercie, Votre Majesté – Thank you, your Majesty

Background information:

_The harem_

The present King of Morocco, King Mohammad VI broke the tradition of having many concubines and wives. Being a flamboyant playboy, it came as a surprise when he announced that he would only have one wife.

_Dar al-Magana_ – Means clock house in Arabic  
><em>Médersa<em> – Refers to an educational instituition, be it secular or religious  
><em>Merenid Dynasty<em> – A Zenata Berber Dynasty that reigned from 1215 to 1465

A/n: Yay. FF finally allows me to post a new chapter. :D Hope I got everything right this time. If there are any discrepancies with the details, tell me A.S.A.P so that I can correct it. Rating has finally gone up! I kind of respect people who can write about sex flawlessly. It's really hard work. (For me anyway.) Seriously. How can you not feel embarrassed when penning the details down? I'm hardly near describing the full process and I'm already going red. Now I have come to fully understand the difference between writing and reading. x.x On another note, guess who were the 'pulp' and 'puree' Suoh was 'talking' to? *laughs*

To all readers out there,  
>God speed.<p> 


	7. 6: Dining with Moroccans

**Disclaimer: The usual with one addition. Heavy reference to the travel guidebook, 'Travellers, Morocco' by James Cook. **

_Fez_, the oldest _Medina_ in Morocco, is a city of aged wisdom. This is justified when one recalls the birth of the palace of _Bou-Jeloud_, nurtured where _Almoravid Kasbah _once stood. Poorly preserved archives showed that even before aforementioned _Kabash _was brought to life in the eleventh century, _El Kairouiyin_ and the mosque of _Moulay Idriss II_ had long since resided in its place of birth, _Fez Elbali_, more commonly known as Old Fez. Founded by _Moulay Idriss I_ in 789, later continued by his son, _Moulay Idriss II_, this brought Fez to a grand age of more than a thousand years.

Throughout that millennium, the mighty citadel, home to Morocco's ruling power, bore witness to a vast number of events that shaped its rich and vibrant culture. She endured cycles of many sorts, riding on an emotional rollercoaster. Seen as a contradiction, it is also not incorrect to believe Fez is ageless, for she is an immortal for as long as the earth below her feet persists. Time passing for her and humans are worlds apart. And for that reason alone, Fez's heart would grief for every passing Sultan whom, regardless of their immense power, was still mortal, leaving her to watch on helplessly as they bloom and wither as quickly as the changing landscape of the Sahara desert. Fez would mourn and despair over the same repeating scene of chaos within its walls; blood, violence and zealous ambitions spilling over unceasingly. Her broken heart could only be mended by the chosen one, who'd rise to the top, bringing back peace and order. It was only then that she would partake in the celebrations on the once deathly-silent streets, sharing the happiness her inhabitants felt; waiting in doleful resignation for the cycle to repeat itself.

Every century or so, the almost impregnable city would grow anxious when powers beyond Morocco's border grew too strong, threatening the balance of things. Her worry was not unfounded for her Kings and officials had grown weak and incompetent over tumultuous years of internal strife for power, allowing the scale to tip too far in favor of the outsiders. 1912 marked the nadir of Morocco's power; the time had come for Fez and her other medina siblings to grudgingly bow down to colonizing powers. However, reaching the bottom could only mean that two vertical options were cut down to one. They bided their time, carefully building connections with the rest of the world, slowly gaining strength that reached its peak in 1956. Together with Sultan Mohammed V, Morocco's independence was secured using primarily diplomacy. Morocco, her mother, was once more placed under glorious imperial rule.

While it was true to say Fez's losses were great when she succumbed to the overwhelming power of the colonizing party, it was also said that her gains were equal, if not close to it. Before France took a slice of the cake, Fez had long since been carefully constructed, using rich culture and fine architecture as material; accumulated painstakingly throughout thousand of years. The peak of its art came at the hands of the Merinid Dynasty. Undeterred by bloodshed in Spain, Merinid's Sultans indulged in a long two hundred years passion for architecture, melding Morocco's history into plaster, bricks and paint. Along came Marshal Lyautey, Morocco's new French governor. This well-learnt French general sought to uncover and enlighten himself with Morocco's boundless art, enabling Fez to preserve her heritage whilst improving her infrastructure. As brick stacked upon brick, French culture seeped into little nooks and crannies. Rather than diluting, it weaved and enriched Morocco's traditions instead, bringing Fez's cultural arts to greater heights.

Back in the present, bearing similar interests as the General, freelance photographer Takaba Akihito sated his appetite for knowledge in his own style. In his pictures, he embeds philosophy, lifestyle and substance; the still figures on film telling a story of which would leave one listening so transfixed and so mesmerized, he would lose track of time while standing and staring as motionless as the ones who told the story. Forget about being forced to pretend to be Asami's bitch, Akihito flung his past regrets for agreeing to go on this trip over his shoulders. The country he was in now could be called a haven to all whom seeks beauty and depth in cultural arts. In fact, it wouldn't be so much of an exaggeration to say that he had, for the very first time, willingly considered Asami's meddling a blessing.

Médersa Bou Inania was the epitome of the Merenid's passion for architecture, to think it anything less than a 'Jewel of the Medina' was preposterous. Having seen one flawlessly sculpted Moroccan edifice left Akihito brimming with expectations for the next as he regretfully departed from the stunning masterpiece, Masashi in the lead and Asami, flanked by his two imposing bodyguards, casually strolling after, a file in hand; at which Akihito had sniffed disapprovingly to. Only a workaholic like Asami would prefer to concentrate on work rather than enjoy the sights Morocco offered.

"Hey Musashi-san, where are we going next?" Akihito asked, excitement barely contained, eye still squinting through the eyepiece of his camera, snapping photos of the hectic dusty streets.

"My wife's humble home. Her family has very kindly offered to host us this afternoon for lunch. It has been a while since they have had foreign guests, they were most eager to volunteer. The sun is at her highest, high time we fill our stomachs don't you think? I'm sure you're feeling quite ravenous yourself."

Anticipation crushed, Akihito whined. "Can't we at least look at one last monument before that?" Suddenly, it occurred to him that he was being very rude. "Er.., I mean I'm grateful and all, but… I'm not hungry yet." Straight after, as if to disagree, his stomach growled loudly. Akihito blushed, mortified.

Musashi barked out a laugh. "Looks like somebody's little friend begs to differ. Am I correct to say you haven't had breakfast this morning? You shouldn't do that," admonished the man in a parenting tone, eyes twinkling with mischief, "breakfast is an important meal, especially after morning _exercise_."

"I didn't have time, stupid Asami kept going like a rabb- …" A split second just before anything awkward was blurted out in retort, Akihito managed to catch himself just in the nick of time. "I mean! Asami… he, um…for the camera, h-he…" At a lost for appropriate words, he turned to Asami whose eyes had left the stack of paper in favor of the interesting conversation. He silently pleaded the already smirking man for help, throwing in wide watery googly eyes for added effect.

Taking pity, Asami smoothly interjected. "Stop teasing him. You're wasting precious time. We shouldn't keep Lutfiyah waiting or you will be in for an earful."

The acting tour guide seemed to pale a little. He took a quick peek at the face of his watch and hastily defended himself. "She's expecting us in another fifteen minutes. There's more than enough time."

Asami hummed absentmindedly in response, tucking the stack of paper between two other files in Kirishima's arm. Sparing his blushing lover another glance, Asami gave in to temptation. "And that was incorrect Musashi. Akihito has had breakfast. Liquid pro-"

Face burning brighter than ever, Akihito slapped both hands over Asami's mouth, laughing awkwardly. "Why, look at the time. It's already this late. Time for lunch!"

When Asami's tongue boldly darted out to lick the fleshy obstruction, the flustered man pulled back his hands in a flash, giving a squawk of surprise. Muttering profanities under his breath, Akihito rubbed his hands vigorously against the jeans he wore, throwing a nasty look towards the older man.

Musashi, recovering the color of his face, released another chuckle before resuming his way to the residential area of Fez. "If you would please follow me then."

Food in Morocco was very much unlike what the Japanese were used to. While Japanese kept their food mostly simple and bland, Moroccans cooked _everything_ with spices. Their meat was often rubbed with paprika, couscous sprinkled with a generous amount of _ras el hanout,_ Morocco's popular spice combination, its name literally meaning 'head of the shop'. Unaccustomed to the spiciness, Akihito required a mouthful of water after every spoonful of yellow semolina grains, much to the amusement of everyone dining, including his hosts.

Having a meal with Lutfiyah's family was an extremely chaotic event. Looking around, Akihito came to realize just how large the boutique manger's extended family was. Grandparents, parents and an uncle, together with his two wives already made up seven people. Lutfiyah had two older brothers, one married to a shy brown tiny woman who had conceived a pair of rowdy male twins, bringing the number at the table to twelve. Musashi had mentioned that Lutfiyah's two little sisters were already married off to their respective husbands two years ago, hence their absence. Lutfiyah's uncle had three sons and a daughter, a son married to another quiet petite lady, who had bore him three little brown bundles of joy. Together with Musashi, Lutfiyah, Asami and himself, there were twenty-four people sitting round the table in total. Kirishima and Suoh had remained at the door despite insistence from Lutfiyah's father, fulfilling their duty unwaveringly. Akihito didn't know how in the name of Allah they could resist the mouth-watering smell of Moroccan cuisine wafting in the air. Now that he thought about it_, do they even eat at all?_

The entire affair started of with a joined chorus of '_Bismillah_', meaning 'in the name of god', something that must be said before every meal for if one does not announce Allah's name, Satan and his minions would come to share their food. Slowly throughout the course of the event, the sound of booming male laughter dominated the air, tinkling feminine giggles residing almost inaudibly just under. Male dominance was a well-preserved aspect of Moroccan life, evident in the way conversations over the table would always start with a male, females often speaking up at rare appropriate times or else remaining silent.

Lutfiyah's father, Fadil, was, as his name suggested, a very generous man, serving his guests an ample amount of food enough to feed three large starving men. Akihito had dug into two servings of _mechoui_ with barely withheld restraint (another dining etiquette to remember. Eating voraciously indicates that the hidden hand of the devil is controlling the diner), keeping in mind to always use his right hand when tearing pieces of the tender juicy roasted lamb, eating it together with tasty round _khobza_ bread.

However, by the time Fadil filled his plate once more with _couscous_, the third dish of the meal, Akihito could only smile weakly in thanks, slowly picking tiny amounts out of the mountain with his thumb and first two fingers. Using any more fingers was a sign of gluttony, a mistake Akihito had the misfortune of committing when they first started eating. Discounting the slight uncomfortable looks thrown in his direction, his hosts seemed peculiarly unaffected, although there was a slight crease in the forehead of Lutfiyah's grandfather before Musashi hastily corrected him. He could only blush and stutter a meek apology in Japanese which Musashi translated, reddening even more when the elderly patriarch nodded gravely. (Akihito swore he saw Asami's shoulders shaking imperceptibly in silent laughter but by the time he swerved his head to confirm it, Asami was back in his impassive mode. _What an asshole._)

The meal ended, much to the relief of Akihito, with sweet homemade _cornes de gazelles _- small crescents stuffed with almonds and honey. The women and children of the household stood up to collect the half-empty plates, shuffling from the courtyard back into the house. The men spoke a little more with each other before splitting up, leaving Fadil to wave his hand in beckon, indicating that his guests should join his brother and father in the porch.

Already settled down comfortably on well-polished wooden boards, both men were sitting cross-legged, back leaning on cedar pillars, each smoking from a pipe. Asami and Musashi took their respective places in the small circle they were making. Once every guest was seated, Fadil accepted another _Sebsis _(pipe) from his brother; its contents pre-lighted, and took his seat between Musashi and his father. Akihito sat next to Asami appreciating the kempt flower garden with uncharacteristic quietness while the rest of the men exchanged words of French, occasionally perking curiously in attention whenever his name was mentioned.

Distracted by a fluttering butterfly frolicking about the rose bush, it startled Akihito when an arm suddenly hooked around his waist, pulling him sideward. Finding himself smack in the middle Asami's lap, Akihito hissed in horror. "What do you think you're doing?" He tried to wriggle out but Asami's grip was unrelenting. "T-they…" He pointed a finger towards their hosts frantically, trying to convey to Asami what he could not put in words in sheer panic. When responded with an unconcerned face, Akihito took a deep breath and started again. "Are you crazy? You can't just… They…What would they thi-mmph!"

Asami silenced his anxious lover with a deep kiss, paying utterly no attention to their audience who slapped each other's lap, wolf-whistling in appreciation for the show. Once sure his wildcat was completely out of breath, he released Akihito's lips with one last nip. "Calm down Akihito. They knew about it a long time ago. Lutfiyah informed them about the… nature of their guests."

"She…They…" Talking with insufficient air in his lungs proved to be a challenge for Akihito. Asami merely waited patiently for him to catch his breath. "They accepted our… erm …" Akihito pointed back and forth between the two of them.

Asami nodded, corners of his mouth twitching at Akihito's incredulous look. "Surprisingly yes. Now, why don't you join the ladies for some tea? Be nice to them now. Don't make any unnecessary mess brat." Giving one last ruffle to the brown locks, he pushed the boy to his feet and prodded him in the correct direction. "Down that hall Akihito, Musashi will guide you."

Akihito harrumphed in indignation for being treated like a child. Bowing awkwardly at the three elderly men smoking, he exited the porch along with Musashi. "M-Musashi-san. Erm…" Akihito fumbled for the correct words. "They, er… About Asami and I…"

"How could they accept homosexualism so easily?" offered Musashi as he led Akihito down a series of bends. Akihito could only nod, scratching his cheeks in embarrassment. "Well, I don't blame you for thinking otherwise, since the people in Fez are still quite conservative. It was a surprise for me too. Giving Lutfiyah's hand in marriage to a foreigner like me is not something that comes by that naturally either. My wife once said all males in her family get their university degree overseas. Apparently, immersing yourself in an entirely different culture can help to open your mind. Let's see now, was it to the left or right…"

They had stopped where the hallway had furcated, Musashi twisting his head in both directions, confused. Taking this opportunity, Akihito commented disbelievingly. "Even so, to accept such notions in the span of four years shouldn't be possible. Isn't it the same as telling one to throw away a faith they have lived by since cradle?"

Musashi turned to enlighten the boy. "You're exaggerating Akihito. Rather than accepting, it is more of tolerance that they developed. They have come to terms that there are different people out there who have their own faith and beliefs and that there is simply no point in rejecting those who are different." Turning back to the fork, he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration as if trying to jog his memory. "This place never ceases to confuse me. After three years, I still can't remember my way around. How embarrassing."

Shoulders slumping in defeat when his memory failed him, he took out a coin. "We'll just have to try our luck this time round." Musashi gave it a toss and removed his right hand covering the coin. "Tails. Left it is." As they turned, Musashi spoke sheepishly. "I must apologize in advance should we be going down the wrong hallway."

Akihito shook his head in understanding as the pair continued down the left passageway, halting when a reprimanding feminine voice sounded behind them. "Musashi! How many times have I told you that that way leads to the servant quarters? Really, such a useless man you are."

Her husband cringed visibly, giving a weak smile to his beloved wife. "Honey! Wonderful, just in time. Akihito, just follow her alright? I'll be heading back now …" Bidding a swift goodbye to Akihito, he hastily retreated back to the porch.

"W-wait! Musashi-san! You can't just leave- I can't speak French!"

Down the passageway, Musashi apologetic voice echoed back. "Don't worry! Lutfiyah can speak Japanese!"

"Huh?" Akihito exclaimed in response. He stared at the brown skinned lady accusingly, betrayed. As far as he knew, whenever he was in the company of the manager, she always spoke to him in French.

Lutfiyah pouted in disappointment. "Aww, and I wanted to tease you some more." Akihito thought she looked adorable at that particular moment but his impression instantly fled when the mischievous glint in her brown eyes turned threateningly murderous. "Stupid man had to ruin the fun. You won't take this to heart will you, Akihito?"

"Uh…"

"You wouldn't right?" Although the sweet smile remained on those pink lips, Akihito swore he felt his life was teetering along the edge of a cliff.

"Y-yeah…" Akihito stuttered, betrayal forgotten.

Musashi's wife giggled. "You're a real good boy aren't you? So much better than my useless husband. If only Asami hadn't claimed you…"

"I'm not Asami's thing!"

A skeptical glance was thrown in his direction before Lutfiyah started down the right fork. "You cannot keep on denying it Akihito. The sooner you accept this, the quicker everything will go. Come on, it won't do to keep my grandmother waiting."

"What everything?" asked Akihito, matching his strides with Lutfiyah's own fast-paced ones. The lady promptly ignored him, pushing him through the orange veil that hung from the top of the door and into a small cozy room residing at the end of the hallway. From behind, Lutfiyah whispered, "That is something you'll have to find out on your own. Quickly now, take that empty seat over there, my grandmother wishes to talk to you. Remember Akihito, do not stare at anything or compliment it, tradition will force us to give it to you. '_Evil eyes_' are unwelcome here."

Akihito nervously nodded and shuffled towards the circle of ladies who sat embroidering patterns onto cloth. The soft chatter slowly died out as the females' attention fell on the newcomer. Patting on the space beside her, Lutfiyah's grandmother, wrinkled and wise, smiled gently in welcome. Akihito gave an awkward bow before settling himself stiffly on the carpeted bench. Lutfiyah came up next to him, gracefully collecting the hems of her skirt and adjusted them accordingly as she sat.

Taking his hands in her own papery thin ones, Lutfiyah's grandmother softly spoke a string of Arabian dialect. Lutfiyah, acting as a translator, spoke up when the elderly woman finished speaking. "Grandmother asks if you're fine. She says Morocco's heat and sunlight can be quite unforgiving towards foreigners."

"I-I'm fine Obaa-san. It's just a little hotter than Japan's summer, nothing that I can't handle. Thank you for your concern."

Upon translation, the sides of Lutfiyah's grandmother's eyes crinkled, smile widening further. Slowly, through their three-way conversation, Akihito relaxed and enjoyed the idle questions the elderly woman posed. What his job was, if he was enjoying it, was he having enough to eat… She reminded him of his own grandmother in that area, although Lutfiyah's grandmother was much more subdued, carrying an air of passiveness.

Idle, random questions slowly evolved into ones with more purpose. "How many children are you planning to have dear child?"

Lufiyah howled with intensity unbefitting of a lady of her stature, earning a disapproving glare from her own mother, who in spite of herself, looked up from her needlework in interest. In fact, the rest of the females present either slowed or completely halted in their work, waiting eagerly for Akihito's answer.

Akihito spluttered, and nearly dropped his cup of fragrant mint tea which was served to him moments ago by a skinny female servant. "What- That-… I couldn't possibl- I'm a man! I can't have children!"

Mentally slapping himself for stating the obvious, the mortified man swallowed the rest of his tea in one gulp, fiddling the now empty teacup for distraction. What made matters worse was the look of pity the venerable lady gave him, patting the back of his hand in sympathy whilst muttering another string of Arabic.

Lutfiyah visibly collected herself under the sharp eyes of her mother and explained. "Oh Akihito, that wasn't what she meant. Grandmother was talking about adoption. She knows perfectly well you can't conceive. In Islam, a woman without children is considered the most unhappy being in the world."

In spite of himself, Akihito bristled and exclaimed hotly, "But I'm not a woman!"

Lutfiyah's mother, interest greatly piqued, spoke up. "Close enough to be one. Father has approved of your role in your relationship with Asami-sama. Why else would you think you could be here with us women of the household?"

Puzzlement spread over the heated face of Akihito, prompting Lutfiyah to explain. "In normal circumstances, male visitors do not mingle with the females of the house; in fact, we would not even be present for meals if there weren't a single female visitor." She paused for Akihito to take in her words. "However, because you take the passive role in your relationsh-"

"Passive role? I'm not Asami's bitch!" interjected Akihito in indignation. Why was his masculinity questioned everywhere he went? Akihito couldn't even remember a circumstance when he was recognized as an equal to Asami, or as a man even. It was always Asami's 'thing' this, Asami's 'woman' that. Dressing up as a woman last night wasn't helping his case either.

Unfazed, Lutfiyah continued deadpanned. "You're recognized as the 'uke' in Japan, you'll be lying if you said you're unaware of that fact. Tell me Akihito, when was the last time you actually 'top' someone?"

"That-…" The truth stung. Smacked right in the face with it, Akihito simmered down, shoulders slouching in defeat. Lutfiyah was right. If it was any defense at all, it wasn't like he hadn't tried. Once, when arrogant Asami had smugly said he would never be able to satisfy a woman after experiencing his oh-so-fabulous bed techniques, Akihito had stomped out of the penthouse fuming, searching for a one night stand to prove him wrong. Surprisingly, Asami did nothing to stop him, although after that embarrassing night, he knew why. Adding insult to injury, Asami had sought him out to gloat (and for another round of sex) when all he wanted to do was to curl up in the dusty corner of his empty apartment in shame, all the while carefully nursing his stinging cheek.

A satisfied smile graced Lutfiyah's delicate features, the gleam in her eyes hinting mild sadism. "In any case, grandfather thought it appropriate to view you as a 'woman' and has allowed our interaction. If I remembered correctly, I think grandfather said something along the lines of 'Mr. Asami's future wife? A man? Why, that won't do. Asami is a great man; deserving of a woman filled with grace and capability, not some crude little street boy. I want you ladies to teach him something tomorrow. Anything! As long as you push him down the road of becoming a perfect partner for such a respectable man. It is never too late to polish a dull, rough stone into a shining diamond.' "

Akihito opened his mouth to defend himself, but after giving it a second thought, wisely closed it for fear of tarnishing his reputation further. Lutfiyah seemed to be in the mood to tease him, it wouldn't do his self-confidence any good if he gave her any more ammunition to rub salt all over his gaping wound.

Lutfiyah pursed her lips, disappointed when she got no reaction out of Akihito. "In any case, my family is rather different from other typical traditional Moroccan families. We have my grandfather to thank or blame for. His interest in foreign culture has influenced the manner in which he shapes the household. He allows sons to go overseas for education, daughters to get a degree in university and now this." Lutfiyah waved her hand around to indicate their current situation.

Akihito nodded slightly, pondering over the queer tendencies of the staid, serious patriarch. One really couldn't tell from appearance that said elderly man was willing to compromise his family's reputation in favor of his interest in foreigners. From looks alone, the man appeared to be the type to follow traditions steadfastly. When hesitantly voicing his concern, Lutfiyah's mother laughed. "You should have seen the faces when Lutfiyah came out top in her class for every semester when she was studying for her degree in university. No one dared to speak ill of my daughter after that." Parental pride shone in the eyes of the woman. "There isn't much to be worried about. Father is a respectable figure in society. Many just pass it off as one of his whimsical quirks he possesses in sheer moments of pure genius."

A comfortable silence lapsed in the circle as the women turn their attentions back to their embroidery work. A small impatient tap to his arm had him glancing over. The elderly woman crossed her arms, and huffed, as if annoyed with something. Lutfiyah raised a slender eyebrow, feeling just as confused as Akihito. Her mother, eyes still on the fabric she held in her hands, snorted out an explanation in amusement.

Enlightened, Lutfiyah giggled. "Grandmother still wants to know how many children you will have with Asami-sama."

"I…" Akihito cursed inwardly. It was such an awkward question to answer. With deliberate hesitation, he replied, choosing his words carefully. "I… I have never thought about it. I don't think Asami wants any anyway. I'm sorry Obaa-chan." The disappointed look on the wrinkled face had Akihito wincing apologetically. Really now. Children? It was impossible. The relationship he had with Asami was distinctly anything but normal. Even if he was a woman, Asami and children don't mix. It was God's law. Akihito couldn't bring himself to wrap his mind around that concept. He sniggered when a fat, balding old man with two bawling toddlers came to mind.

Giving it another thought, Akihito sighed. Even if Asami wanted one, for the purpose of having an heir, an elite well-rounder would surely be Asami's choice of a lifelong partner. Akihito supposed that was why their relationship was, from the start, never built to last. They were just too different, in _everything_. Whoever said opposite attracts was obviously in a delusion. It would just lead to more conflicts, so numerous that the relationship would never develop properly. Akihito gave a small bitter laugh. He wondered when this surreal dream would end, when Asami would coldly turn his back on Akihito, throwing his toy away when he grew weary of it.

Unbeknownst to him, the doleful, sad look creeping onto his face had caught the attention of Lutfiyah's grandmother. Concerned, the old lady stood up and hobbled towards the back of the room where a rusty trunk rested, elaborate carvings swirling on every inch of wood. Rummaging through piles and piles of neatly folded heavy fabric, she brought a small piece out, about the size of a handkerchief.

She returned to Akihito's side, pushing the soft silky cloth and a needle into his open palms. She pointed once at the contents in his hands and then in the direction of the porch. Confused, Akihito turned to Lutfiyah for guidance. The wife of a yakuza leader set her own embroidery aside, taking the white handkerchief from Akihito. She spread it out and gasped. All other women in the room peered in interest. Green embroidered borders lined all four sides of the square piece of cloth. Further patterns in autumn colors spread out, converging near the centre, forming an empty square in the middle. From the looks of it, the canvas of art was unfinished.

Lutfiyah's grandmother looked strangely forlorn as she stroked the delicate embroidery, explaining her intentions for Lutfiyah to translate. "Grandmother says that although you cannot be wed, traditions should still be upheld. She wishes for you to complete this handkerchief and give it to Asami-sama as dowry."

Akihito trembled in disbelief. "D-dowry? I couldn't possibly… I'm not even sure what I am to Asami."

The elderly woman shook her head and insisted persistently. "Grandmother says that that piece of work was once made for someone she loved a long time ago. However, her arranged marriage to my grandfather tore them apart. She has never regained the will to complete it ever since. Grandmother knows a same-sex relationship is difficult but she does not want you to suffer the same fate. Embroidery is an important aspect in our culture, Akihito. How detailed and beautiful it is depends solely on the feelings of the one embroidering. She believes that if you give it to Asami-sama as a symbolism of a 'dowry', the ceremony would be half-completed with your feelings being transmitted and both of you will be one step closer to being together forever, just like married couples."

"I…I…" 'Married' to Asami? Impossible. Their relationship did not run that deep. Asami would surely mock him for this.

Annoyed with Akihito's hesitation, Lutfiyah's grandmother clasped his hands firmly in her own and stared straight into the depths of his troubled hazel orbs.

Lutfiyah softly echoed after her grandmother, words weighing heavily, "Do you love him Akihito?"

Unconsciously averting the soul-prying gaze, Akihito mumbled to his lap. "I… Asami! He… I'm sure he wouldn't want-"

Shaking her head, the elderly woman repeated herself once more. "Do you love him? It matters not what _he_ thinks, grandmother wants to know _your_ feelings."

Every woman in the circle sat waiting with bated breath for his answer. Pressured by the heavy gazes directed at him, Akihito tried to pull his hands away to hide his face. However, the powerful grip unbefitting of an elderly woman prevented him from doing so. "I… I … to Asami, he…" Akihito squeezed his eyes shut, trying to put some order to his trail of conflicting emotions.

Love? It was such an intense emotion, filled to the brim with so much philosophical value that he could not even begin to comprehend. Akihito wasn't even sure of what he felt for the man. He had liked it when Asami took him mercilessly, night after night as he pleased. He had pinned and sought out the safety that was Asami, craving for more when he first heard his voice on the ship where he was still held captive. He thought of nothing but Asami when Fei Long raped him, time after time. However, he hated the man when he tried to control his life. Rejected him when he had to face the less than legal business Asami conducted through his viewfinder. Disgusted with himself for acting like a young virgin over every little action Asami made. He hated with much vigor for every new feeling Asami instilled in his already chaotic heart.

Which brought him to the next question. Did Asami love him? Had Asami even felt anything akin to love for him? A relationship was built on trust and love between two people. Akihito was very much aware of Asami's possessiveness if the event in the car last night was anything to go by. Did that mean that he was just a thing, an object to be coveted?

Was he even worth to be coveted as an object? Since the beginning, he had always been a burden, a thorn in Asami's side. Back in the club, he had disrupted gun dealings and possibly marred Asami's reputation as an impeccable club owner. In the entire Hong Kong saga, he was the one who had indirectly, but inevitably caused the wound in Asami's shoulder. He was also the one who had caused Asami to go through all that trouble in Hong Kong, risking the lives of many men, only to give up ownership of the Russia casino deed, in exchange for his possession, its value disproportionate to every benefit Asami could have reaped from his path-crossing with the Chinese mafia. Every little thing he did would always come back to bite the one person he did not want to be harmed.

Akihito groaned miserably. He couldn't do this. Not in front of so many people. Not under this much pressure. He was not ready to fix the jigsaw that was his heart. There were too many questions to be answered, too many answers that could be given and too many ways they could be interpreted. Akihito needed time, time to sit down and figure out just how this relationship should work, time to sort his feelings out and time to discuss this with Asami in all matter of seriousness.

When Akihito finally spoke, his small voice quivered with uncertainty and was barely audible, "I don't know… I'm sorry. I just… Asami… he, to him…"

Lutfiyah's grandmother patted his hand sympathetically, nodding her head in understanding. "It's alright. Things would become much clearer sooner or later. What is important is that you do not shy away from your fear of this uncertain future dear child. Take one step at a time little one. It matters not how small it is, so long as you make progress." Reaching over, her wrinkled hand took the handkerchief from her granddaughter and pushed it once more into Akihito's hands. "Just one small step, child, just one small step."

Abruptly, the elderly woman turned and hobbled away to her chambers, shoulders shaking slightly. It was Akihito's turn to look concern. Lutfiyah's mother glanced after her mother's retreating hunched silhouette. "It's alright, mother just needs some time alone. She does occasionally close up when she remembers too much of her old flame. Lutfiyah will teach you the basics of embroidery. The rest will be up to you Akihito. Remember, use not your mind but your heart to sew."

As Lutfiyah patiently coached him, Akihito sewed in solemn silence, allowing all his conflicting emotions to flow out from the dam he had constructed, feeling slightly lighter when the pressure slowly lifted bit by bit with each tug of the thread.

When Musashi finally came to collect him, it was slightly past mid-afternoon. With reluctance, the women bid him farewell and good luck, cheering him on in his conquest for Asami's love. Akihito gave each and every female a weak smile, thanking them for their guidance and company. He carefully folded his completed embroidered art, slipping them into the back pocket of his jeans, wincing when the numerous pricks on his fingers brushed past the rough blue material. He would give it to Asami one day, when he had more confidence. For now, it was better if it stayed hidden from the man.

Back at the porch, Asami was now sitting alone, leaning against a cedar pillar, left arm draped over a propped up leg, the other bringing a pipe, similar to the ones his hosts smoked from, to his lips. Releasing a cloud of smoke, he lifted his left arm in invitation. Wordlessly, once Musashi left them alone, Akihito burrowed into Asami's side, breathing in Asami's signature musk combined with an unfamiliar smoky scent.

Asami quirked an eyebrow at his lover's subdued actions. Normally his wildcat would downright ignore his invitations, preferring to skit around, hissing furiously. "Is there something that I should know about?"

Akihito shook his head. "Just thinking." Sniffing once more, Akihito peered curiously at the contents of the pipe. "What's that?"

"Hashish, Morocco's marijuana. Want a taste?" Without waiting for a reply, Asami pushed the pipe past Akihito's lips. Caught unaware, Akihito inhaled a mouthful of smoke. Clutching his throat, he coughed puffs of grey clouds out, eyes watering.

In-between coughs and hacks, Akihito spat out, "Damn it Asami! I…*cough* don't smoke! And that *cough*… tasted like crap."

Asami gave a low chuckle, ruffling the messy brown nest of hair. "That's why you're still a brat."

Akihito grumbled, throat itching from the inhalation of foreign particles. As a comfortable silence settled over them, his mind involuntarily went back to what had transpired just a few moments ago. Tumultuous emotions aside, he couldn't believe he had actually sewn. It was definitely sorcery. Or it could be that a _Djinn_ had possessed him. Why else would he have taken part in a traditionally women-oriented pastime? Sighing, he leaned sideward, head fitting perfectly into the crook of Asami's neck. Morocco was affecting him in more ways than he liked.

"Hey Asami, can I ask you a question?"

Blowing another ash-grey cloud out, Asami nodded slightly, eyes looking distantly into the tranquil rose garden.

"How many children do you want?"

A clink rippled through the air, shattering the serenity of the place.

Asami 3 Akihito 2

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><p><em>Medina – <em>means 'city'

_Bab Bou-Jeloud –_ The traditional main gate which leads into Fez, blue (representing Fez), on the outside and green (representing Islam) on the inside. About 200 hundred years old.

_Almoravid Dynasty – _1040-1147. Known for their success of defending Al-Andalus against Iberian Christian kingdoms and for other successful campaigns against Spain under the leadership of Youssed-ben-Tachfin, thus enlarging their empire which extended from Ebro to Senegal and from the Atlantic Coast of Africa to the borders of Tunisia.

_Kasbah – _A type of fortress where normally important leaders would live in. The rich may also live in them for it represented their wealth. Kasbah have high walls and little or no windows.

_El Kairouiyin – _Built in 859, a religious institution and mosque where scholars studied in. Back in the tenth century, other mosques in Fez would make the call to prayer only after they heard El Kairouiyin. Re-established as a modern university in 1947.

_Moulay Idriss I and II – _Founder of Fez and the Idrisid dynasty which lasted from 788 to 985. Moulay Idriss I was the founder of the Idrisid dynasty and was considered to be the first national saint. Moulay Idriss II, his son, inherited the unfinished Fez and proceeded to complete it. Together with various other military campaigns, he completed the founding of the Islamite Empire of Morocco. He was known as the legendary ancestor of all subsequent rulers.

_Marshal Lyautey –_ Fez's new resident-general upon French colonization, served in Morocco from 1912 to 1925.

_Mechoui –_ literally meaning 'roasted on an open fire'. It is most commonly referred to an entire lamb roasted outdoors.

_Khobza –_Not that different from normal bread in terms of ingredients. One of the distinct difference is that yeast is not used, causing the bread to be flat.

_Couscous – _Made of Semolina. It is the staple food for Moroccans, similar to how rice is a staple for Asians.

_Evil eye –_ The eye of envy or dislike.

_Hashish – _more commonly know as 'kif' in Morocco, it is composed of mainly resin taken from female cannabis plants. When socializing, men will smoke them in small pipes or water pipes. Although illegal, it is possibly one of the greatest attractions that Morocco provides. Since Cannabis is a significant income source for the country, there aren't many serious crackdowns being conducted every year. So, to all you smokers out there, go on and have a try. Just be careful of undercover cops who like to target tourists.

_Djinn – _Genie. In Islam, while humans are made out of clay, Djinns are made out of smokeless fire by Allah. They live in a parallel world, can see humans and are said to be able to possess both living and non-living things.

Homosexualism in Morocco – Immoral and Illegal. Article 489 of the Penal Code of Morocco states that all "lewd or unnatural acts with an individual of the same sex" are considered a crime. The prosecuted will be charged with a fine and a minimum prison sentence of six months.

Women's role in Morocco – Traditionally, women are expected to stay in the house and occupy herself with housework, child-rearing and embroidery. For relatively modern households, women are allowed to work, although permission must first be sought from the male head. Women's education may vary. Most do not go to school, a moderate percentage will enter primary school (more than half will usually drop out) and few are allowed to take on tertiary studies.

Embroidery in Morocco – The art of hand embroidery is extremely important for females. The dowry can easily take a generation to build and it is important that it is done well using only the finest of materials that the family can afford as it demonstrates the wealth of the bride's family. Embroidery can be found on any piece of cloth in Morocco. Charms are often embroidered on so that misfortune may not befall on them. An example is the hand of Fatima. This charm protects the wearer from the effects of the evil eye. As of the present, most embroidery is done by machinery rather by hand.

A/n: Once again, the same ol' usual. If there is anything incorrect about the history of Morocco or the culture, please correct me A.S.A.P. I wonder if Akihito was OOC here. He still sounds a little wimpy to me even after many changes. What do you guys think?

Honestly, I'm starting to regret calling this a _week_ in Morocco. There's still a lot to write about Morocco but it would be seriously pushing it if I squished all of them into a week. Sighs. Why didn't Akihito borrow a time-turner from Hermione? Anyway, next chapter, Akihito will be back on the sightseeing trail.

Thanks for the reviews and views!

God speed to all of you. :D

P.s. Just had a look at the animix on youtube. (It's quite good btw) Omg, I can't stop laughing. Feilong's Cantonese was really bad. And he's supposedly the top chinese mafia too. As a fellow Cantonese (a Halfling, but that's beside the point), I don't even know if I should feel insulted or just have a good laugh over it. If they ever produce an anime, *crosses fingers* I sure hope they do something about it. x.x


	8. 7: Touring Fez part 2

**Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapter. Plus lots of heavy references to the net.**

"The _zaouia_ of Moulay Idris II," said Musashi as they stood a slight distance away from the large gates. He took out his glasses from his breast pocket, placing it on the bridge of his nose before further elaborating. "_Zaouia_ means shrine. It is not open to non-Muslims but you can have a peek through the entrance."

Akihitos's crestfallen look had Musashi chuckling. "You'll need to get use to it. There are a number of places that we're going today that forbids the entry of non-believers. Now, go on. Have a peek." Shooing Akihito in the correct direction, he peered over his spectacles to glance about, mumbling out an inaudible string of words as he matched his surrounding to lines of directions untidily scrawled across the page of his slightly worn-out notebook.

As Akihito dashed forward, camera in hand, toward the white-washed monument erected around the sacred tomb of Moulay Idris II, son of Idrisid's national saint, Musashi's faint voice called out to him from behind the crowd of worshippers gathering near the entrance. "Akihito! No pictures!"

The diminutive silhouette visibly slumped, camera released from hand, allowing it to swing dejectedly from his neck. Assured that Asami's lover would do nothing else to incur the wrath of the sacred mosque, he turned back to the hardly-discernable squiggles, squinting hard.

Asami who was finished with yet another file of paperwork, came up from behind, amused voice startling the poor man. "What did you do to offend your wife this time round? Her writing used to be the epitome of elegance."

Sighing deeply, Musashi rubbed his temples slowly. "All I did was told Akihito she could speak Japanese as well. She accused me of spoiling her fun and did this is her revenge." The troubled man waved his hand across the page in indication, shaking his head. "Women…"

Asami smirked, mirth steadily increasing in his taunt. "That's why I asked you to reconsider your choice three years ago. A man shouldn't be controlled by his spouse. It's very unbecoming."

Musashi huffed irritably, retorting with vengeance. "Like you are one to talk. How many times has your dear boy tug at your heartstrings?" Satisfied when Asami dropped all humor, donning his usual detached mask, he waved the man off. "If you're not going to be of any help, why don't you join your little cat? _**Childless**_ women often frequent Moulay's _Zaouia. _Since you can't enter, try combining your prayer with his. Who knows? The great King might hear you."

Abruptly, Asami turned on his heels, strolling leisurely towards Akihito. His threat dripped with danger, although tinged with something else. "Watch what you say Musashi, people like you are easily replaced."

Musashi snorted, unaffected. The once terrifying man was losing his touch. Come now, did he really believe he could scare others with pink-tipped ears?

Giving another withering glance at the messy scrawls, Musashi scoffed in defeat. _No choice then... Time for plan B._ "Ah! Excuse me. Could you please tell me where …"

As the sun slipped further down west, Akihito had more peeks through various mosques and Médersas, each with similar green tiled roofs, white-washed walls and towering minarets. Out of the dozens, two stood out from the rest.

_Mosque Karaouiyne_ (_El Kairouiyin) _wasbuilt using only material dug up from the site, thus consequently, considered Morocco's holiest ground. Akihito had only took a swift glance through the gate, in fear of the guilt that would accompany his conscience for staring too long, soiling the purity of the place.

_Médersa Attarine_, beauty only surpassed by her younger sibling, _Médersa Bou Inania, _was another of Merinid's famed passion for architecture. Open to visitors, Akihito dashed in without a second thought, savoring the splendor of its infrastructure and art. From the courtyard to the prayer room lined a complex pattern of pentagons and stars, extraordinary and profound in its art. More specifically so was the entry wall to the prayer room. Using a technique known as _taqshir_, the breathtaking calligraphy of the word 'Allah', combined with its soothing-colored background leaves one stunned for a few minutes, overwhelmed by the sheer skill needed to create the mural entirely out of tiles, their glaze peeled off to reveal a shiny surface whereupon lettering and other decorative aspects were laid.

The day was drawing to a close but Akihito's artistic hunger was barely sated. Down to one last place to visit, he was determined to make the most out of it. Contrasting with the majestic and reverent silence of holy sanctuaries, _Souk Sabbighin_ and the tanneries of _Souk Dabbaghin_ were bustling with life and chaos. Dyers would shout across the streets from their soot-blackened workshops, trying to make themselves heard over the bubbling of their pots and the roaring of the fire beneath. Stepping into this small street -_Souk Sabbighin_- was akin to entering an ancient age, long forgotten by the rest of the modernized world.

Akihito choked over a metal vat when the pungent smell entered his airways, almost dropping his camera into the boiling pot of yellow dye from which he took a hasty step back. Pinching his nose, he whined to Asami, who looked as unaffected as the graying dyers who toiled here daily, accustomed to the acrid scent of dyes. "Ugh… Dith stuff sdinks. Is your nose oud of order or somedhing? Even Musashi doesn'd wand du come here." He pointed a finger towards the man who stood a safe distance away.

Asami blinked, sniffing the air once more. "It smells like vegetables to me. I don't see why you're making such a huge fuss."

Widening his eyes in disbelief, Akhito echoed after Asami. "Vegedables?" Swiftly turning his head towards Kirishima, who was examining a pair of black pants draped over a metal pole intently, he yelled out, "Kirishima! We've godth an emergency. I dhink Asami has caughd a cold."

The secretary's reaction was immediate. Covering the distance between him and his boss in seconds, he fluffed his feathers, ready to give Asami a thorough check. Asami threw him a glare, keeping the mother hen at bay. "My nose is working perfectly fine." When Kirishima daringly threw a skeptical look back, Asami sighed and took a step away from the boiling vat. "Come here Kirishima, take a whiff and tell me what it smells like."

Without further hesitation, Kirishima leaned over the pot and took in a deep breath. "It smells like vegetables to me, Asami-sama."

Akihito's jaw fell open. "Oh god. Whad is wrong wid the both of you? Suoh! Suoh musd have a betder nose than you both."

With a wave of his hand, Suoh responded to Asami's call promptly, sniffing the same metal vat, _twice_. The hulking mountain seemed to cringe for a moment, spurring Akihito to give a victory punch into the air. Asami however, smirked knowingly as well. "Vegetables, Asami-sama," Akihito's face fell, hands falling limply to his side. Unwillingly to accept his defeat just yet, he dashed forward, dragging Musashi over who protested vehemently.

Childishly pointing towards the bubbling concoction, Akihito gave an order. "Smell."

"Ah, I don't think this is a good idea Akihito. I really detest the smell of dyes." However, within minutes, Akihito's stubbornness won, compelling the man to take a quick whiff with great reluctance. Musashi paused, blinked and sniffed once again, exclaiming softly. "Oh, vegetables."

Throwing his hand up in the air, Akihito grounded out his conclusion. "That's it. It's official. All gangsters have a sense of smell comparable to whales!"

Musashi laughed. "That's not it Akihito. There are two different types of dyes here in this dyer's _souk_. There are ones like these, made naturally from plant coloring and those further down are made with chemicals. It's the chemical ones that have a stronger smell and the ones that I really hate."

Akihito stuck his tongue out and crossed his arms. "Doesn't change the fact that you don't have a nose."

Asami chuckled, whispering into the sulking boy's ear. "You can't blame us Akihito. The smell of gunpowder is a lot stronger than this."

Cupping his ears instinctually when the hot breath caressed the shell of flesh, Akihito drew away, flushing darkly. The gleam in Asami's eye told him the older man was just joking, but Akihito knew better. What his dangerous lover said was the truth. Being involved in a couple of cross fires during his stakeouts had him familiarized with the distinct pungent smell of bullets and stagnant blood.

Damn. It was times like this when he didn't know how to respond to Asami's sudden reminders of his involvement with the underworld. Akihito could only breathe a sigh of relief when Musashi called for them to head further up the _souk_.

Down the cramp cobbled alleyways, Akihito carefully avoided the rivulets of dark liquid running down the drains for fear of staining his only shoes he had brought on this trip. Asami didn't know the word 'restraint' when it comes to showering his lover with clothes, and Akihito would rather walk barefooted than give the older man any reason to spoil him excessively. (Just imagining the hours of carnal activity he would have to endure in return gave him goose bumps) As they trudged deeper, the smell of chemical dyes grew increasingly strong, impelling Akihito to release his grip on his camera, breathing only through his covered mouth. Even Asami had a thin furrow at the top of his head.

Out of the narrow street and into a wide space, Akihito spread his arms and took a deep breath of what he had assumed to be fresh air. Unfortunately, a putrid scent was sucked into his nasal pathways instead, causing the naïve boy to gag. "You have got to be kidding me. Where the hell is this smell coming from?"

"Those, Akihito. We're at the tanneries of Souk Dabbaghin." Musashi explained, pointing at a hive of vats below them, teeming with tanned Moroccans. "Those stone vats contain a mixture of dyes and pigeon droppings. The droppings help to soften the leather."

Akihito nodded and wrinkled his nose whilst taking a couple of shots. _Droppings? Seriously? Why can't they use something else?_ As time passed, the smell became more tolerable as his olfactory receptors adjusted accordingly. Looking at this world through the zooming lens of his camera, Akihito was mesmerized. Moroccan workers, all of which were males, dressed only in shorts, leapt across vats, plunging leather into the colorful heavy liquid, motions quite similar to how a woman would do her laundry next to a river.

Working under unbearably hot conditions, these men toil unceasingly under the glaring sun, skin darkly tanned and dyed after years of soaking in rainbow honeycombs. The process of tanning leather was simple but hard work. First, pieces of leather were soaked in acidified pigeon excrement and then taken to be dyed twice in two different colors of vegetable extracts. Once sufficiently colored, usually taking up to two weeks to achieve the satisfactory color intensity, the numerous pieces of colored leather were then taken to the hillsides to be hung up and left there to dry before being collected for shaping and stitching.

Pre-occupied with taking clear shots, Akihito managed to swallow a yelp of surprise (which ultimately came out as a squeak) when something furry brushed past his ankles. Looking down, he noticed a black cat purring, rubbing its whiskered cheeks endearingly against the skin exposed between the end of his jeans and shoe.

Akihito stooped to run his hand down its head, heart melting when the feline purred louder, rubbing harder against his leg. Unable to resist, Akihito lifted the cat into the crook of his left arm, right hand still massaging the top of its head.

"Birds of the same feathers flock together huh?"

Akihito swerved to meet the amused gaze of Asami. "Asami! Look! Look! Isn't he a cute one?"

The older man gave the black feline a once over before commenting, voice dropping a tone lower. "Not as cute as you, my little wildcat."

Akihito blushed and shoved the cat straight into Asami's face. "Not in public! I-idiot!"

Asami merely leaned back slightly so that he avoided swallowing a mouthful of fur. When green slits leveled with his own predatory gold orbs, Asami commented once more. "Looks like your little friend has a sore eye."

"Huh?" Akihito pulled the purring feline back, leveling its furry face to his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. His right eye does look a little red. Do you think we should bring him to a vet?"

"What's wrong?" Musashi walked over, joining them.

"Kitty has a sore eye. Look." Musashi bent a little to stare at the green eyes. "Hmmm…I heard that it's pretty common for stray cats to get them during fights. It doesn't look too serious though."

"Really?" Akihito questioned, turning the cat back to examine the red eye more closely, worry etching onto his boyish features.

Asami regarded his concerned lover steadily before cocking his head, calling Suoh from his station. "Have a look."

The stoic human bear plodded over wordlessly, taking the dark feline by the scruff. As Suoh prodded and examined, Asami enlightened the confused boy who held his breath in horror, clearly misunderstanding the bodyguard's intentions. "Suoh has twelve cats at home. He should be able tell the severity of that eye."

An image of the stocky bodyguard in a dress robe, sitting in a rocking chair, surrounded by twelve cats of varying shapes and sizes immediately perforated into Akihito's imaginative mind. Tried as hard as he could, he couldn't restrain the laughter rapidly rising from his gut. Doubling over, he held onto Asami (who was sporting a smirk of his own) for support as he shook. _First he hates vegetables, now he likes cats?_

Handing the purring feline back to a still quivering Akihito, Suoh declared unperturbed whilst petting the animal one last time, "It's mild. It's a reaction to foreign particles being lodged in. Just bathe the eye with cold tea using a clean cotton pad."

Sobering up quite sufficiently, Akihito resumed the scratch behind the pair of triangular appendages, nodding in mild graveness. "Let's go back to the hotel Asami. We better get him cleaned up fast."

Sparing the tannery one last forlorn gaze, Akihito hustled the entire company of men back to the luxurious hotel, bidding Musashi a quick goodbye on the way. They crept soundlessly back to their suite, (rather it was only Akihito who tiptoed unnecessarily across the lobby) feline carefully hidden in his camera bag.

Under the watchful guidance of Suoh, Akihito gingerly bathed the eye of the cat with cold green tea. Peculiarly, the feline did nothing in retaliation when confronted with white cotton to its eye, as if knowing what was going on. In fact, the four-legged purring creature simply sat there, obediently allowing Akihito to do what he must, gazing at the concerned boy with extraordinary intelligence with the other eye.

Task completed, Akihito took a step back to carefully observe his handiwork. "It still looks red."

"Give it some time Akihito. You can't expect it to heal instantaneously." As golden orbs flickered once to the wall clock, Asami scooped Akihito into his arms, heading towards the bathroom, outright ignoring his shouts of protests. "It's getting late, time to wash up. Little children shouldn't go to bed with dirt on their faces."

Taking their cue to exit, both Suoh and Kirishima retreated, closing the door softly behind them.

Settled snugly in a fluffy towel, the feline's ears pricked up when yells from the bathroom turned into moans that echoed with immodesty. Regarding the sounds of carnal lust with mild interest, it meowed once and curled into a furry ball, slipping into a nap undisturbed by the hormonal din that steadily increased in volume.

_He felt sore. All over. That was why he hated sex in the bathroom. The tiles were hard and the bruises he got from slipping were numerous. But did Asami ever listen to him? No. The bruises only served to induce a jealous fit from the insatiable man, causing him to selfishly replace each and every mark with his own._

_Sitting up, mindful of his aching back, Akihito slowly took in his surroundings. Black. Everything was dark although strangely enough, he could still see his own hands and leg, as if they were emitting a light of their own._

_Confused, Akihito slowly got up to his feet, exploring the endless abyss with arms stretched out in front. Out of nowhere, a cold draft blew past, leaving Akihito acutely aware of the thin gown he wore. Rubbing his arms vigorously in an attempt to create some heat, he called out. "Hello?" His voice echoed eerily, causing shivers to run down his spine. Fear slowly crept into his heart. Taking a deep breath, Akihito called out once more. "Is anybody out there?"_

_Again, his voice echoed, reverberating even though there were no walls present. He was alone. Or at least that was what he thought until a pair of icy arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him towards a chest, equally cold._

"_Akihito…" Sighed the stranger. Akihito frowned. The deep voice sounded so familiar. Sounded so much like "Asami?"_

"_Akihito…" The cold creature repeated. Comforted, Akihito snuggled, shivering slightly as the heat from his body slowly seeped away._

"_Akihito…"Like a mantra, 'Asami' called his name over and over, voice distorting with each repetition, low tone gradually pitching higher and higher. Akihito pulled slightly away, brows drawn together. Was this really Asami? He looked up, trying to discern the facial features of the one embracing him. However, the shadow of the abyss masked the entire head, preventing him from recognizing anything. _

_Light. He needed light. Bringing his hand up, he traced the jaw, soft glow transmitting over. _

_Smiling. That wasn't right. Asami never smiles. _

_Slowly the curve of lips widened into a grin. Fear once again claimed Akihito's heart. This wasn't Asami. As he tried to pull away, the grip around his waist grew crushingly strong. He struggled, panic fuelling his attempts to flee his icy confines as the grin widened even further._

_Cooing mockingly, the creature easily pinned him to the floor, one hand keeping his wrists firmly secured above his head while the other stroked his cheek with tenderness. Straddling the boy at his hips, the nameless figure finally spoke. "How disappointing. You don't seem to remember me."_

_In spite of his fear, Akihito scowled. "Who are you?"_

_A smirk graced the faceless feature as the head shook from side to side. "It shouldn't be 'who' but 'what' Akihito. However, that is a question I won't answer. It isn't all that fun when you receive your answers so easily."_

_Waving his hand slightly, frames of pictures flitted past from the abyss, collecting into an orb in the opened palm. "Let's see if we can get you to remember the first time we met shall we?"_

_Fingers closed down on the orb, mercilessly squeezing. Akihito screamed and writhed. It hurt. His head hurt so badly. "Shhh," cooed his tormentor once more._

_When Akihito appeared to have no reaction other than pain, the creature clicked his tongue in annoyance. "A barrier huh? How troublesome. Your lover is pretty useless if he can't even get you to overcome your fears you developed in Hong Kong…"_

_Hong Kong? Akihito, still dazed from the aftershocks, weakly questioned. "H-how…"_

"_How? How do I know?" His captor laughed, seemingly pleased. "It's simple really. The mind of a mortal is surprisingly fragile. Look here." Bringing the rotating orb to Akihito's face, he dipped his fingers in, maneuvering with purpose._

_Akihito flinched, afraid of the expected pain. Surprisingly, none came, only a feeling of an unknown force probing about in his head. Uncomfortable yes, but it was nothing like the blinding pain he had experienced previously. "What-Ugh…"_

_He felt a slight pinch, wincing when the fingers drew out, a faint line of white light attached to the tips. "Let's see now. What do we have here?"_

_Akihito gasped when memories of the day flooded back into his mind. Sight-seeing, lunch with Lutfiyah's family, embroidery, sex with Asami. Excerpts of each scene flitted past like the silent films of the twenties, each and every emotion clearly expressed and felt. Awe, Respect, Embarrassment, Hesitation, Uncertainty, Like, Hate, Lust, Desire, Passion._

_As quickly as it started, the makeshift movie ended just as quickly. Akihito blinked, his original sight returning to him. "What a huge bowl of feelings you have. You're just like a little, naïve female virgin. Why do you continue to pin for that man even after knowing he cannot possibly love a street rat like you? Having a crush at your age Akihito? How very cute."_

_Insulted, Akihito opened his mouth to retort but was immediately silenced with a freezing finger. "Hush Akihito. You're cuter when you don't speak." Leaning downwards, the unnatural being breathed his icy breath over Akihito's lips. "Love me instead. I'll never toss your heart around like that little yakuza lover of yours."_

_Not at all tempted by the prospect, Akihito shook his head vigorously. He sensed danger. Hungry lust rolled off the cold body in impossibly hot waves. Struggling anew, he pushed away in desperation. Unfazed, the cold lips descended upon Akihito's earlobes, nibbling away. "Don't reject me. You want somebody to love you, don't you? Let me love you Akihito."_

"_N-no…" Love? Yes. It was something he craved. But not from this person. Akihito wanted it from someone else entirely._

"_I love you." As if reading his mind, the being cunningly melded into Asami's husky, baritone whisper. Akihito froze, heart palpitating thunderously. _

"_I love you Akihito." No. Impossible. Asami would never say those words so easily. _

"_W-why? Why are you doing this?" Akihito whispered, pushing his palms against the cold, exposed torso weakly. Why torment him like this? He knew perfectly well it was not Asami who was saying it. Yet, it sounded so real, so heartwarming. With those three precious words, it rid his heart of doubt instantly, enveloping him with comforting warmth and security._

"_I love you so very much." Akihito trembled, succumbing to his desire to feel loved by the very man he knew would never possibly come to do so. Instead of pushing away, Akihito drew closer, burying his head into the unnaturally chilly chest._

_Grinning victoriously, the humanoid creature removed the thin garment without further resistance as Akihito fell into his illusion. Sliding his hands up Akihito's toned thighs, he exposed the thoroughly used hole, bringing his tongue out to give a quick swipe before plunging in repeatedly. Akihito tossed his head up wantonly, calling Asami's name over and over._

_Smirking, the illusionist slipped his fingers into the moist ring of muscles, bringing the boy to greater heights of pleasure. "I love you Akihito, from the tips of your hair down to your toes."_

_Akihito moaned, clenching around the intrusive fingers tightly upon hearing declarations of love he secretly and so desperately craved from his impassive lover. Whimpering, he fully opened up to 'Asami', spreading his legs in invitation for something more, much more than just two fingers._

_Thoroughly blinded by his desire-ridden lust, Akihito failed to notice that his make-believe Asami started to grin, a high-pitched mocking laughter following after. However, he did hear a faint anxious call of his name._

"_Aki…" The icy body aligned himself with the twitching hole._

"_Akihito…" The tip slowly pushed in._

"_AKIHITO!" _

_Startled by the sheer desperateness of the call, Akihito snapped out of his daze, eyes reverting back to his normal alert hazel glow. Straining his neck, his eyes focused on the shadowed face hovering above. The widening maniacal smile broke the illusion completely and Akihito became acutely aware of being penetrated any second by someone that was definitely not Asami. Adrenaline rushed through him as Akihito kicked the torso squarely in the chest in self-defense. _

_When his mind finally processed the blinding truth, a sense of desolation engulfed his broken heart. Trickery. Lies. He wasn't Asami. All those sweet words were lies. From the beginning, they were never true. Anguish clouded his better judgment, drawing Akihito into a rage like never before. Pouncing on the silhouette, he wrapped his hands around its throat. Akihito snarled in pure fury, squeezing with bruising force. "You!"_

_Strangely relaxed for someone being strangled, the grinning figure casually replied. "Me."_

_It was as he feared. It was all a dream. Akihito shook with rage, angry with the deceiving figure for giving him false hope, furious with himself for stupidly falling for it. "I… I…Damn it! I hate you!"_

"_Are you going to kill me then? Careful Akihito, some times the mind and eyes do not cross each other's path. Dreams and reality can be perceived quite differently once their paths lie parallel to each other. Once it's done, it's done. There will be no turning back. Are you sure you want to past this point of no return?"_

"_I…" Uncertainty rang in his voice even with the domineering white-laced fury, the concept of murder obviously a novelty to the poor, innocent, tormented boy, although his fingers closed tighter still in frail determination._

_Smirking once more, the icy faceless humanoid form spoke, amusement lacing every inch of his words. "Let's play a game Akihito, a simple one. My task is to break you while your task is to resist me, and to make sure to hang on to sanity till your departure from this country. First one to complete their tasks wins. How about it? It'll enliven your trip here won't it?"_

"_Wha-" _

"_Of course, I won't ask you to comply with my whims without giving you something in return. Here's my payment. Just this once, I'll help you re-establish the link." _

_Flicking his hand, the creature grinned as the darkness retreated just enough to reveal his gleaming red right eye. "Till we meet again Akihito, although I doubt you will remember me." _

"_Wait-" Before he could put forth any questions, the being dissolved along with the dark abyss, pushing Akihito back into reality._

Akihito blinked once and then twice, taking in his deathly silent surroundings. He was back in the luxurious presidential suite that Asami had reserved. A strangled cough drew his attention to the body he was currently sitting on. What shocked Akihito wasn't the fact that he was straddling Asami but where his hands were. His eyes trailed down his arms, covered with cold sweat, ending with clammy fingers that wrapped around his lover's throat with enough force to leave glaring red marks. _**Careful Akihito, some times the mind and eyes do not cross each other's path. Dreams and reality can be perceived quite differently once their paths lie parallel to each other.**_

Realization sat in. He was strangling Asami. The one man he could never bear to see harm being brought down upon. And yet, here he sat leaving purple finger markings all over his throat. Trembling, Akihito leapt away, backing rapidly till he collided with the wall.

"Akihito?" Asami's voice was slightly hoarse but tender.

Akihito paid no heed as fearful guilt engulfed his conscience. He was afraid of meeting Asami's eyes, terrified of what he would see in those golden orbs. Betrayal? Anger? Or the same cold, pococurante look? Bringing his shaking white hands up, Akihito stared in disbelief. _What was he thinking? Just what had he done?_

"A-asami…I…I…" When the concerned older man slowly approached him, Akihito gave a start, fleeing to the other corner of the room. "D-don't! P-please, just s-stay away!"

Asami frowned. This was a new occurrence. Never once had Akihito tried to attack him in his sleep. Waking up to find Akihito writhing in his sheets was normal enough and Asami would as per usual wait for Akihito to wake on his own (or offer some assistance if it took too long) before comforting the poor shaking boy. To let his guard down when he assumed tonight would not be any different was his mistake.

When he shook the boy, calling his name repeatedly to rouse the trembling form, his lover had snapped his eyes open and immediately lunged at his careless self, grabbing his throat with force he never thought the boy could possess. Strong yes, but Asami could still have easily switched their positions. What stopped him from instinctually moving in self-preservation were the hazel eyes that stared at him, unblinkingly. Cloudy and dull, it indicated that Akihito was still trapped in his dream, oblivious to his own actions.

During that moment, although aware of Akihito's state of mind, Asami still felt slightly betrayed. Had he misjudged the affection the boy had for him? Could he not sense that it was his lover he was trying to harm?

However, it was no time for Asami to brood. There were more important tasks at hand. When Akihito had seemingly regained his senses on his own, the boy instantly ran, like a frightened animal.

Taking a step forward, Asami whispered soothingly. "Shhh… It's okay Akihito, there's nothing to afraid of."

The boy shook his head vehemently, edging away when Asami made to move closer. "I-I'm… sorry. I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean it. I s-swear."

Asami sighed when his attempts to close in on Akihito failed. This was far more serious than he thought. Changing tactics, he stood where he was, cooing soft words to his trembling lover. "It's alright Akihito. It's alright. I forgive you."

Tears streaming down from puffy red eyes, Akihito raised his head. "Really? I swear to you Asami… I …I didn't know. I really didn't…" He slid down the wall, curling up, hugging his legs close to his heaving chest.

Once assured that his lover would no longer run from him, Asami made his move. Closing the distance between the both of them swiftly, he gathered the shivering mess into his arms, bringing him back to bed.

"Don't h-hate me Asami. I s-swear I won't do it again." With a tissue, Asami dabbed the tears away with uncharacteristic tenderness before assuring the boy who clung to him with desperation. "I won't Akihito. I can't, even if I wanted to."

However, Akihito was less than convinced. He sobbed uncontrollably, soaking the sheets with salt and water, barely responding to Asami's coaxes to calm down.

Asami eyed his broken lover and made to move away. He paused when Akihito whimpered, clutching his arm for dear life. "N-no. Don't leave me. Don't t-throw me away Asami. I… I…"

Placing a small kiss on the hysterical boy's head, he whispered softly. "Just for a little while Akihito. I'm not abandoning you. Come on, let go. Be a good boy now."

With deliberate hesitation, Akihito slowly released his grip, chewing his bottom lip raw in an effort to restrain himself.

Making sure he never left the sight of his mistrustful lover, Asami crossed the room and retrieved a small folded square of paper from his hastily discarded black pants. With his back turned to his anxious bed inhabitant, he dipped two fingers into the small package, coating the tips thoroughly with grayish powder.

Upon return, Asami forcefully tilted the head of the still sobbing boy and covered quivering pink lips with his own, swallowing the mutters of profuse apologies. He traced the hot cavern and nudged at the still tongue within, coaxing it to dance along with him. Akihito moaned, flood gates closing as he shut his eyes, savoring the bitter tobacco taste of Asami's tongue.

Drawing away to give Akihito time to breathe, he lapped up the remainder of Akihito's tears, trailing up the water tracks till he ran his tongue over closed eyelids. Erasure completed, Asami splayed a big palm over Akihito's chest, bringing his head down to suck and tease the fine muscular lines of his lover, mapping the contours with his lips. He felt Akihito's quivering hands entwining with his black locks, torn between pulling away and pushing closer. "A-Asami… I…"

Silencing his lover with two powdered fingers, he gave a simple command. "Suck."

Akihito hiccupped once, before staring at the unknown substance with hazed suspicion. Asami tapped his fingers on the bottom bleeding lip that Akihito had chewed on in anxiety, seeking entrance. The young man sniffled, deciding to place temporal trust in his dominating partner. Asami eyed the small tongue as it flicked out tentatively, collecting a sample at the tip. Two more tiny licks and he grew impatient. Thrusting both fingers past Akihito's lips, he turned a deaf ear to the small whines of protest and forced his will down upon the boy, making sure Akihito licked every single particle off cleanly.

Task completed, Asami smirked and leaned back into the soft pile of pillows, pulling Akihito along with him. Now all they had to do was to wait for _it_ to take effect.

As Akihito lied on Asami's well-built body, head buried in the crook of the yakuza's neck, he scratched his tongue with his white teeth. The powder that he was forced to consume was spicy and bitter. It irritated his tongue. Why had Asami made him take it? Was it poison? Punishment for turning his claws on his self-proclaimed master?

Akihito whimpered as he recalled his crime, tears welling up in his eyes once more. Why? How could he have not realized his actions even in his sleep? Were his feelings for Asami not sufficient enough? If that was the case, did that mean his hate was more than his craving for the man's passionate embrace?

There were so many questions. Too many for his liking. And all too difficult to formulate answers for. It was making his mind spin. He felt light-headed and sensitive. Strange. It was as if he was floating.

Akihito fidgeted. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, skin becoming more sensitive to the light breathing over his head. Just what did Asami give him? There was even an itch in his nether regions. Flushing darkly, Akihito tried to lift himself away from Asami. He couldn't let the man know his growing arousal. Craving for an embrace after trying to choke the life out of somebody was definitely not the way things should develop. If Asami were to find out, he would surely be tossed out for getting ahead of himself.

However, when Akihito placed his palms of the bed and pushed, his arms immediately gave way, causing him to flop back down onto Asami. Weak, he felt so weak. Yet, failure was not an option if he wanted to remain with his yakuza lover. Determined, he made another few attempts, all ending with the same results. Akihito gave a frustrated cry and opted to employ the next best alternative, rolling over and burying under the thick pile of blankets.

Asami watched the boy's attempt to hide his erection in mild amusement. Flush hot skin, increased heart pulses and dilated pupils were signs that the drug was beginning to work its effect on the previously hysterical boy. Accepting the aphrodisiac from Lutfiyah was definitely a good move. Amongst the various collection of spices used, the woman had included the famed ingredient, Spanish fly. If consumed in appropriate amounts, it could become quite potent, allowing a male to perform quite splendidly for several hours.

Stopping the boy from covering up, Asami turned and hovered over the panicking form. He leaned down and kissed his temporarily docile wild cat, dominating the lip lock with crushing force. If Akihito was going to be stubborn and blame himself for unintentional actions, he would personally get rid of those foolish delusional thoughts and leave the boy with nothing in his mind safe for the pleasures of passionate engagement in skinship.

Upon receiving meek submission from Akihito, Asami released the boy from the bruising kiss before proceeding to latch on the exposed neck, painfully marking the bronze skin with his teeth. Raising his head to glance at his handiwork, a sense of satisfaction washed over when he was greeted with a sight so arousing.

Akihito clutched at the sheets as Asami abused his skin, placing purple marks far darker than the ones he had created on the other. He whimpered and moaned, twisting his neck so that his cheek dipped into the white bedding, baring his throat in animalistic submission. When Asami pulled away to admire his canvas of love-bites, he blushed with self-consciousness while shyly offering his naked body up to his predatory elite lover.

It was becoming difficult to think. As soon as his mind formed a barely coherent thought, it immediately dissolved, swirling together with the overwhelming desire to be touched and dominated. His erection was painfully hot and so terribly itchy. Akihito wanted release. He needed to feel some sort of relief. Thrusting his hips up to grind his leaking member with Asami's large pulsating organ, he sought out that release wantonly.

He whined with frustration when all his efforts only made his cock harder, and even more swollen. Why was Asami just looking? _Hurry. Touch me. Feel me. Let me come. _Impatient, Akihito nudged at the hovering man, switching positions when Asami complied with his silent demand. If Asami wasn't going to touch him, he would make the older man want to.

Grabbing his own erection with one hand, Akihito stroked himself as he licked and sucked Asami's cock to full hardness. Glancing up from his task, Akihito eyed his aroused lover with lustful intentions. He moaned around the pulsating organ as Asami's large warm hands grabbed his head, pushing his head down to completely engulf the stiff cock fully in his mouth.

Seemingly satisfied with the foreplay, Asami pulled Akihito forward for another kiss, hands sliding purposefully down the curve of the boy's smooth butt, stopping to pull the cheeks apart. Akihito whimpered and fidgeted, pushing down on the fingers that circled his entrance teasingly.

"Come Akihito, show me how much you want this." The hot breath caressing his ear caused a shudder to run down his spine. Vaguely aware of what he should do, Akihito nipped at the skin covering abdominal muscles while he brought his own hands down. With little hesitation, he slipped his own fingers in, scissoring and loosening the hole in preparation of what he barbarically craved.

As he maneuvered his fingers to go deeper, his index coincidentally brushed past his own sweet spot. Throwing his head back, Akihito cried out in pleasure, directing all four fingers to roughly strike at the spot that would bring him the mind-numbing sensation once more.

Shoving his fingers in repeatedly, Akihito neared the point of release. However, Asami, being the cruel man that he was, tormented the poor boy by forcefully removing his fingers from his twitching, loose hole.

"Do you want to come, my sweet Akihito?" Wordlessly, Akihito nodded, wincing when Asami tied his hands roughly together behind his back with a strip of cloth. "Ride me Akihito. Little children should work hard if they want their little treats."

He could barely comprehend the words that Asami had spoken, only recognizing the word 'ride' that Asami often used during sex. Through his drug-induced haze, Akihito slowly put some power into his legs, positioning himself over Asami's incredibly huge cock with the guidance of the hands at his hips.

Without the help of his hands to balance himself, Akihito crumpled, impaling himself painfully. Tight muscles clenched forcefully at the sudden intrusion, trying to push the foreign hot object out. Asami grunted at the sheer tightness of Akihito's hole, stroking the boy's head comfortingly in efforts to get him relaxed.

"A-asami!" gasped Akihito. Stretched painfully pass his limit, he whimpered, placing a weak bite at Asami's collarbone. "Too b-big…" Shaking his head from side to side, tears leaked out of his eyes for the third time of the night. "I c-can't… Y-you're too- ah!"

Akihito gave a sharp cry when Asami jerked up, sinking his erection further into the twitching hole. "You can take more Akihito. Stop underestimating yourself. Now quickly, you want your release don't you?" Wrapping his hand around the weeping, neglected cock of his lover, Asami stroked with speed and force.

"N-no. A-ah! I…" Despite his weak protests, Akihito tried once more to lift himself up. Slowly, with great effort, he rode Asami, taking the scorching organ up his ass again and again. Aiding his lover with his task, Asami grinded up, angling his own cock to strike Akihito's prostate, throwing him deep into the throes of passion. A sheen of sweat glistened over his skin as Akihito struggled with the last of his energy reserves. Fatigued, but unsatisfied, he finally collapsed atop Asami. "I… I can't a-anymore… I'm s-sorr-"

Asami's finger pressed down on his lips, deterring him from completing his sentence. "I think that's enough apologies for one night. Try again Akihito. What did I teach you to say when you want something?"

"I…I want…um…" Akihito strained his mind, cursing at his light-headedness. He couldn't think through all that lust and drugs. "C-can't think… I… please Asami…" When Asami gave no response, Akihito faltered, afraid of the possibility of rejection. _No. It can't end like this._ Gathering his courage to try once more, he allowed his instincts to take control, effectively throwing away all inhibitions and self-awareness. "T-ake me Asami. P-please! I- … I want to come!"

Pleased, Asami flipped Akihito over, thrusting savagely pass the thick ring of muscles. Stroking the small slippery cock in time, Asami allowed himself the luxury of having his way with the boy. He plunged in repeatedly with bruising force, hitting the boy's sweet spot viciously. It drew long cries of pleasure from Akihito as he writhed, relieved when he finally rode up to the highest point of ecstasy. Together, they spilled forth their milky seeds, the twinge of post-orgasmic sensations running pleasantly through their mind and body.

Akihito collapsed, chest heaving strenuously. As he shifted to face Asami, his erection rubbed against the soaked bed sheets. A small moan vibrated across his vocals. He stared down in horror. Why? Why was he still erect? With the aftershocks of the last climax fading, the swollen, painful needy feeling slowly returned. Mortified at his own unexplained hunger for more, Akihito buried his face into the pillow, willing himself to sink into oblivion.

Asami smirked knowingly. "Not enough Akihito? My, my. What an insatiable little runt." Trailing a finger down the quivering spine, he stopped near Akihito's dripping entrance. Tapping lightly at the thoroughly used hole, he teased the orifice. "Very cute Akihito. You're simply too adorable. Let me play with you till you're satisfied then."

Grabbing the small hips, Asami plunged in once more, taking all that Akihito could offer. Giving an absent-minded glance at the wall clock, Asami purred out. "We have several more hours before _it _wears off. Let's enjoy this while it lasts shall we?" Akihito simply moaned in response, consciousness claimed once more by the hot, irresistible haze of sex.

* * *

><p>As Asami sat in bed, stroking brown locks out of their tangles, he took a deep drag from the sebsis presented to him as a gift by Lutfiyah's grandfather. The flavor of 'kif' was exquisite, although not as strong as his Dunhills. Breathing out a cloud of smoke, he brushed stray strands from Akihito's sleeping face, tracing the peaceful contours lightly with his fingertips.<p>

Sighing, he stared at the ceiling in silent musing. After tomorrow, it was best if he brought Akihito back to Japan immediately. It had been a while since the boy had two consecutive nightmares and it seemed to him that it was getting worse. It could have very well been a coincidence but attacking whilst sleeping was definitely a first. Asami wasn't willing to take any chances. Traumas were not trifle matters that could be taken lightly. He had seen far too many men lose themselves to the darkness of the underworld.

If Morocco's heat coupled with the stress of pretending to be his fiancée was taking its toll on Akihito, then he would do what he must. If things were not settled tomorrow, then so be it. As far as Asami was concerned, Akihito's well-being was his priority. It was the very reason why he had brought Akihito along in the first place. He had thought the brilliant jewels of Fez would provide some recuperative therapy for Akihito.

Asami paused, halting his train of thoughts and gave a small laugh of resignation. _He was lost, lost in this rabbit hole of his own design and it was far too late to turn back._

Placing a small kiss on his sleeping _Tierboskat_, he whispered softly, "The things that I do for you…" Asami brought his head up to stare at the rising sun, watching as the creeping lights of dawn fell upon the curled up lump in his lap. He sighed once more, completing his sentence, "Only for you, Akihito."

Sliding his eyes to meet intelligent green feline slits, Asami spoke to the animal. "And you will tell no one of this."

Unconcerned by the dangerous glint in Asami's cold ember iris, the black cat, long awoken by the commotion in the room, gave a haughty mewl. Flicking his long tail, the feline stretched before washing up for the morning. It regarded the watching human steadily before coiling, leaping to the window sill where the sun shone in the background. Casting one last backward glance, the cat nimbly returned to the dusty streets, leaving Asami an eerie lasting impression of a red right eye and a mouth that curved to vaguely resemble a grin.

* * *

><p><em>Taqshir – <em>Atechnique that involves scraping off the tile glaze in order to leave behind a shiny pattern.

_Souk – _An open-air marketplace

Spanish fly and Aphrodisiacs – A blister beetle. Its wings or body are commonly used to produce the best-known aphrodisiac. However, it is very **poisonous** and although creates a long-lasting erection, males tend to lose sensitivity in their organ, defeating the purpose of consuming it in the first place. The side effects can be quite severe, ranging from depression to kidney failure and if there is an over-dosage, death. Let's just say, for this fiction, I intentionally glorified the entire concept quite a bit. Interestingly enough, Morocco's top spice, Ras el Hanout, contains a teeny weeny bit of Spanish fly extract. (Well, it really depends on whom you buy it from, some versions do and some versions don't) o.O

Translation (Akihito to English):

"Ugh… This stuff stinks. Is your nose out of order or something? Even Musashi doesn't want to come here."

"Kirishima! We've got an emergency. I think Asami has caught a cold."

"Oh god. What is wrong with the both of you? Suoh! Suoh must have a better nose than you both."

Trivia on Whales – Most whales do not have olfactory receptors. Put extremely simply, olfaction is your sense of smell. Therefore, whales cannot smell, although their sense of taste is rather excellent.

A/n: My chapters just keep getting longer and longer. x.x Anyway, you know the routine. Tell me if there's anything wrong and I'll make amendments immediately. I'm testing out writing from Asami's point of view so drop me a note if you think he's acting a tad strange or OOC.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

God speed.


	9. 8: The Hunt part 1

It was approximately an hour before noon when Akihito finally roused, grudgingly, with the help of a few light and annoyingly persistent slaps to his cheek. Hands dipping into the soft mattress, he sat up, bed covers slipping down to his hips, seductively revealing the soft curve of his lower back. Unaware of his provocative display, Akihito rubbed the remnants of sleep out from his eyes and arched his back in a strenuous stretch of stiff muscles. Sufficiently loosened and comfortable, he wrapped the sheets around his cold body out of habit lest he tempted a _certain_ somebody to take advantage of his weakened self (Not that it really mattered. Even at full power, Asami could just as easily take him down with a mere heated gaze) and tested his balance on two quivering feet. Assured he wouldn't fall embarrassingly flat on his face, he pushed away from the bed, swaying dangerously.

An unanticipated lightning of pain tore a sharp cry from his lips. Sinking to his feet, Akihito released the white fabric to clutch at his burning spine, gritting his teeth. _Just what the hell happened last night?_ Through experience, Akihito knew the short duration of sex in the bathroom last night would never have warrant such a searing consequence. That could only mean Asami had fucked him into the bed right through the night. He racked his brains for any recollection but only hazy fuzziness greeted his drowsy conscious. Now that was unusual. He could usually remember, even if it was only small excerpts.

"Need any help?"

Akihito raised his head, meeting the smug, satisfied gaze with a vicious glare. "No!" Sharply slapping the outstretched hand away, he stubbornly gathered his strength and pushed off the floor, silky sheets forgotten. Legs failing him once more, Akihito cursed as he collapsed into the waiting arms. "Bastard. This is your entire fault."

Chuckling, Asami lifted the aching boy into his arms and strutted towards the bathroom. "Oh? I had your consent."

A snort echoed across polished marble bathroom tiles. "In your own delusions maybe." Akihito hissed as he was placed back on his feet in front of the sink. Despite bracing himself against the marbled edge, his legs shook with effort to support his weight.

Placing his hands on the hips of his unsteady lover, Asami purred lowly in response, echoing the pleas Akihito had previously practically begged out. "'Take me Asami. Please. I want to come.' Ring any bells?"

Akihito blushed. It did sound like something he would say. _Vaguely._ But it wasn't something he would willingly admit, not in this lifetime or the next. Distracting himself with the tap, he mumbled past his frothy toothbrush. "None whatsoever…"

Head down to rinse the remaining traces of toothpaste out, Akihito failed to notice the slight crease on the top of Asami's head. He did, however, sense the slight shift in the unusual silent atmosphere. After a thorough splash, Akihito turned to face the unnaturally silent man, fluffy face towel in hand. "Asami?"

The older man shifted his eyes to regard his questioning lover. "Akihito…Are you…" Knitting his brows, the older man paused, leaving the question hanging. Akihito tilted his head in suspicion. There was something odd about Asami. The confident man rarely trailed off, leaving a sentence unfinished. He could very well be imagining it but that last note, it had sounded … hesitant?

Locking hazel with amber, Akihito stared worriedly into the indiscernible pools of darkness, trying to sift for any clues. As usual, Asami made it as unreadable as ever with little effort. Knowing it was useless to pry anything out of the older man, Akihito sighed and lowered his gaze, eyes trailing down the strong jaw to stop at the flawless neck. Or so he had previously thought. Akihito frowned and leaned in to take a closer look. The traces were faint but he could just barely make out slight purplish marks on the once unblemished epithelial layer.

Abruptly, Asami released his grip on his hips and took a step back, away from Akihito's scrutiny. "You have ten minutes." Turning on his heels, he left the bathroom, voice returning to its usual smugness. "Better be quick, you don't want Lutfiyah barging in on your naked self do you?

Without the support from Asami, Akihito painfully dropped once more to the cold, unforgiving floor. "Fuck! Ouch! You… Asshole!" Despite his spiteful retort, he still watched the retreating back with apprehension. There was something eerily nostalgic about the shape in which the marks took on. Kind of like the ones he received back in Hong Kong. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Akihito gave a dismissive laugh and drew his knees to his chest, carefully prodding the blood pool under his skin. Impossible to the max. Enemies wouldn't even be able to cross the five meter boundary around Asami without having their brains shot out. Besides, he was the only one next to the older man all night. As far as Asami was concerned, Akihito was sure as hell considered a harmless rat in the older man's books.

Struggling back onto his feet, he ignored his throbbing knees and leaned tiredly against the wall, shuddering at the coldness of marble. At wits end, he brought a hand to comb through his strangely untangled chestnut locks, massaging his temples as if it could encourage his brain to make sense of everything. Residual sand of sleep dulled his thought process, turning solid to mush rather than the other way round. Too lazy to dwell any longer, Akihito chose the easiest reachable conclusion. Somehow through the night, Asami must have, on a whim, allowed him to place a couple of light bite marks. _There. Matter settled_. He nodded and took a deep breath, moving on to more pressing issues. How the hell was he to get to the shower that lied right at the other end of the humongous bathroom?

Cautiously, he placed a foot forward, testing the shift in weight. As soon as he leaned slightly forward, his knees buckled and Akihito found himself closely acquainted with the marble tiles once more. A string of frustrated vulgarities echoed heavily within the spacious room. _Fine! Crawl it is._

Shrugging his crisp white shirt on, Asami lifted an eyebrow as crude hollering followed his departure from the washroom. Buttoning up deftly with quick fingers, he casually ignored the loud clatters, amplified by the enclosed walls, and stared into the mirror. Long fingers traced faint blemishes, massaging the blood clots. He needed to hide these more carefully. It wouldn't do if Akihito managed to somehow remember the event. It was much too early. The second wave was always stronger and he wasn't sure if the boy's mind could handle the stress.

Akihito was too pure for his own good. Having brilliance that strong even when enshrouded by pitch-black darkness could be a handicap in its own way. Never wallowing in the negative, the boy's brain had learnt to suppress unpleasant memories. It was an unhealthy habit, so to speak. As it accumulated, the sheer pressure would naturally cause the dam to crack – figuratively speaking. Akihito's mind was still too naïve, too detestably white. Should the dam collapse entirely at this juncture, Asami supposed – no- was sure the boy would break under the force of such abrupt darkness; shattering till none of its original brash, hot-headed shell remained.

As much as he hated himself for it, Asami knew he needed to condition the boy to the impending darkness; tread all over that snowy landscape and sully his lover till he was sufficiently tainted. His member twitched at that sinful thought, familiar euphoria starting to bubble down under. With trained discipline, he willed himself to relax. Maybe he really was a pervert that Akihito was always complaining about. Cocking his head, Asami smirked at his reflection. Yet, it couldn't be helped; Akihito had a way of honing his sense of perversion with each and every little innocent action. The boy was a natural in that aspect.

Focusing once more on the purple patches, Asami, indulging in a rare moment of childishness, tried to glare them away. Few seconds of predictable futility later, the rational part of his mind shook its head and finally took control, steering his hand towards the drawer to retrieve a small tube out.

Squeezing a stingy amount of creamy liquid out, Asami applied it to his skin. As he rubbed, the powdery cream gradually blended flawlessly into the nude color of his skin, effectively concealing. Tilting his head to stretch the skin, Asami examined his neck slowly, rounding the circumference of purple to smooth the ridges out. Satisfied with his job, he capped the tube and toyed with it between fingers.

_Concealer_. It had been a while since he had to use it. Over the years, he had grown far too strong to sustain any bruising injuries in barbaric fist fights. At present, the only (scarce) number of times when it came in handy was when his dear beloved mother graced his cheeks with her not-so-delicate slender fingers for reasons that would not be expounded upon, for reputation sake. At least, for now.

He really was losing his touch. His mother was one, but Akihito? The number of people whom he willingly allowed lingering traces of skin contact was steadily increasing. Well, he did say that he noticed strong 'women'. Perhaps that would be his crumbling foothold. Lust, Stupidity or Old age. Asami was well aware that one day his downfall would be because of either three reasons, as it was for every other man whose sole drive in life was insatiable ambition. After all when one reaches the pinnacle of success, there would be no other route available other than descent.

A clatter and another holler of frustration broke through his life-reflecting reverie. Flicking his wrist, Asami took quick notice of the ticking hands. Less than five minutes till Lutfiyah's arrival with Akihito's female baggage. Sparing one last check to his neck, Asami rolled his sleeves up and stalked towards the bathroom. Time to assist his little cat with his bubble bath. And a quick round if time (and pet) permitted it.

* * *

><p>Akihito. Was. Not. Pleased. At all. Nobody told him he was required to attend a business appointment. With <em>Royalty<em>. In _female garb_. And if Asami wanted a god damn favor, why couldn't the stupid pompous ass just ask _nicely_? Not fuck him to kingdom come and then spring a one-liner, summarizing the day's activities, on an unsuspecting might-as-well-be-handicapped lover.

There wasn't a problem with acting as Asami's fiancée.

Really.

Maybe slightly.

… Fine. It was a big problem but there were bigger issues to be concerned over.

What pissed him off completely was Asami's apparent lack of a functioning brain. He had to be freaking _carried_ from place to place, be aided in daily mundane tasks such as bathing and dressing (which he was sure the brainless twit thoroughly enjoyed, what with the deliberate lingering of skin contact at totally unnecessary places) and could hardly sit still due to the literal pain in his ass. What made that idiot think, even for a split second, that he could pull off a proper act with his current condition? In the first place, if he was expected at such an important appointment, shouldn't the man know perfectly well his 'fiancée' needed to be in the purest shade of pink health to give the best impression? Not make matters worse by sticking s-stuff down his anal canal early in the afternoon.

Akihito scowled darkly, aura of umbrage further enhanced by the crimson _Hōmongi_ he wore, directing his glare of death to the guarded broad back standing at a safe distance away. A light flick of sharp nails to his clothed shoulders had him focusing obediently on the lady before him. Lutfiyah was positively displeased when Akihito had stubbornly (and rudely) forbade her entry, insisting that it was improper for a married woman to lay eyes on a naked, young man covered with hickeys from head to toe. (Which was strange that it mattered now, since two days ago, he was _relatively_ fine with being stripped down to nothing in front of a group of females) Big mistake. He should never have let Asami dress him instead because whatever they did together, it would always boil down to sex, ultimately forcing the already unhappy lady to stay outside longer than necessary with Kirishima, much to the chagrin of the latter.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_.

Lutfiyah's wrath came crashing down upon his frail body, drawing small whimpering pleas for forgiveness from plump, swollen lips. His eyelids throbbed under the harsh stokes of solid eye pencils, hair roots creaked with pained protests at vicious pulls and cheeks prickled when scrubbed raw with stiff brushes.

_Just a little more Akihito. You can do this. Be a man._

With a deep breath, he forcibly swallowed the last whine of pain when tweezers spitefully plucked out the last of the stray brow hair.

_There. All Done. Good job Akihito, well do-_

"Why are you parting the _Okumi_?"

As the pretentious serene lady bared his legs, smiling innocently, she spoke, words dripping with pure malice. "Why Akihito, you didn't think we were done, did you?" With that, she produced brown rectangular strips, sadistically relishing in the pure white horror on Akihito's face.

"Oh my god. N-no! Please. Anything but that. I beg you!" Akihito shook his head erratically and attempted to draw his legs away. He could handle female clothes and makeup, but this? No. Definitely not. Leg hair was the pride of man. It reminded him of his original masculinity and was what kept him grounded throughout this entire cross-dressing saga. If he was stripped of even this…

Akihito cursed when a sharp pain shot up his spine, halting his evasion attempt instantly. As Lutfiyah advanced upon him, Akihito frantically called upon his last resort (who was incidentally the culprit for his current predicament and reason for his inability to move properly).

"Asami! Stop her! Why do we even need to do this? My legs are going to be covered anyway!" Cunningly, he did his best to look alluringly defenseless, hoping it would appeal to the dominating side of the possessive Yakuza. (After all, if his puppy eyes had worked on the man the day before, why shouldn't this version work just as perfectly?)

The aloof man simply turned from his hushed conversation with his secretary and raised an eyebrow, regarding the pleading boy with professionally masked amusement. _Weak. Helpless. __**Submissive**__._ His inner beast prowled within the confines of his mind, purring its content with deafening power. He gave credit to the younger man. Akihito was learning how to twist odds in his favor. However, it was still … lacking. Easily suppressing the urge to protect, Asami placed a smirk on his lips to disguise. "Come Kirishima. It would seem my little cat wants some 'alone time' with his… groomer."

With a smart click of his heel, Asami swiftly proceeded to the next room without a backward glance, trusted assistant loyally trailing after.

Akihito felt his jaw unhinged as he stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, feeling thoroughly betrayed. _Shit. That should have worked. _Unexpectedly abandoned by his last hope, his blank mind barely registered the smacks to his legs as deft brown fingers plastered strips securely to the planes of his carelessly exposed skin. It was only when a rip sliced through the air did Akihito jolt back into reality. He howled as burning pain engulfed his conscious, forcing tears to bead along the corner of his eyes.

Kirishima's ears prickled and twitched when the shrill screech of agony tortured the drums within. Allowing only a fraction of a turn towards the bedroom, he commented worriedly (just a little), "Asami-sama, perhaps it would be in Takaba's best interest to-"

Asami waved his half-finished suggestion off, unrestraint amusement lighting the dark amber orbs. "Mothering Akihito now?"

Kirishima maintained his professional, detached persona despite the underlying jibe at his true nature, stepping forward with a match when Asami took his _sebsis_ from its elaborately carved cedar stand. After lighting the clump of cannabis plants, Kirishima took his cue to reply as Asami breathed in the addictive smoke in comfortable silence. "Even if you had intended for Takaba to stay put during the entire hunt, it is still unadvisable to take things this far. Should a dire circumstance arise, Takaba would not be able to move, much less escape."

"That's what you're there for. Why did you think I left you in charge of Akihito's protection?" Settling into the soft embroidered couch, Asami reclined back, relaxing his heavy muscles.

Lacking for an appropriate response that would not suggest incompetence at his job, Kirishima dipped his head in defeat and sat stiffly in the couch directly opposite when gestured to. Despite his assistant's stoic mask, Asami could still sense the disapproval emanating from the straight-laced man. Really now, just who's the boss here? "There is no need for concern. Akihito will regain the use of his legs in the next two hours, just enough to walk. Should … the 'dire circumstance' befall upon us, the adrenaline will override the aftereffects of the _drug_."

"Drugs?" Ah. Oops.

"You didn't happen to take that abomination from Lutfiyah when I turned my back, did you?" Yes. That was exactly what happened. Was he always this predictable?

"Asami-sama!" He should really give his secretary a promotion. From right-hand man to substitute mother.

"Stop being such a worrywart Kirishima. It's not like you to be so worked up over one of the many drugs I feed to Akihito. If I remembered correctly, your fiancée enjoyed it very much too."

The bespectacled suited man visibly stiffened, and answered rigidly, deliberately ignoring references to his personal life. "I do not trust her, she has too many faces. She could've have poisoned it."

Resting his head against a propped up hand, Asami steadily regarded the mistrust shining within brown depths and stated matter-of-factly. "Spanish fly _is _a poison." When Kirishima's stony face delivered an expression devoid of humor, he continued on with slight disappointment. "Little benefits can be reaped from double-crossing us. She knows the price of betrayal as well as her husband does." Kirishima's less-than-convinced demeanor prompted him to lift his shoulders, heaving a sigh. "We have had this discussion several times over the last three years and we are not going to go through this again. She is a key Kirishima, and I rather not lose an important factor in this equation."

Swiftly standing, he drew the curtains aside to appreciate the majestic empire whose underworld was soon to be his. "Matter aside, is there anything I should know before the hunt?"

Behind, Kirishima stood as well, delivering his report with professional ease. "Yes, according to various informants, there are two other people joining today." Tapping lightly on his PDA, he recited monotonously but with clarity. "Mahjub Sawlat Mansour. Thirty-four. Officially married to two wives, illegally to eight, of which four are still under-aged. Twenty-eight sons and ten daughters. On the surface, he is known as a powerhouse in agriculture. Recently, he has begun to expand into the tourist industry. Underworld activities include human trafficking and drug trafficking. A major informant for the royal house. Highly-skilled in weaponry and martial arts."

Processing the data, Asami sucked another lungful of smoke before breathing out a question. "_Fantasia_ or any Equestrian skills?"

Without missing a beat, Kirishima provided a prompt reply. "None."

Asami's brows slanted downwards. "Keep an eye on him. That man does not intend to join the hunt."

Nodding curtly, Kirishima typed with speed and accuracy, mass-sending messages concerning the change in arrangement in seconds. "The second person…," scrolling down, his breath hitched in hesitation.

"It's alright." Fingering the silky translucent curtains, Asami smirked. "Feilong. As meddling as ever."

Mirth danced in his eyes as he turned around. "Did you know he occasionally emails Akihito? He sent one last night stating that they would meet soon."

Despite the plain amusement in that comment, Kirishima could still sense the imperceptible shift in air. Annoyance. Jealousy. Possessiveness. He wasn't even sure if Asami noticed it himself. "Should I-"

"No, it's fine. Feilong positively adores the boy, even if he doesn't want to acknowledge it." Tapping the residue of 'kif' ashes out of pipe, he placed it back on its polished stand, tracing the dips and rise of the carvings. He felt greatly unsatisfied. While the taste of 'kif' was indeed splendid, it was like an appetizer. He needed a main course to completely sate his hunger. "The prize is ownership of the casino. Takaba would be of little interest."

"He knows that Takaba is a male." Kirishima softly warned.

Barely indicating that he heard his secretary, he crossed the room with fingers twitching for the familiar white stick, brain pulsing for nicotine. Stopping before another of the many couches that littered the living room, he took the black jacket that draped neatly over, dipping his hand into blazer pockets, only to find it empty. Sighing, he dropped the disappointing garment. "Not a problem. Feilong isn't stupid. He knows the consequence of exposing our little act. Akihito's lifeless eyes would be the last thing he wants to see." Fingers raking through his hair, he succumbed to the unrelenting crave for tobacco. "See that all arrangements are made. And while you're at it, get me a box."

Nodding, Kirishima gave a quick bow before leaving the room, tapping incessantly at the brightly lit screen. Back inside, Asami dropped heavily onto the couch and closed his eyes, laying the pieces on the board in his mind.

Feilong.

How very convenient.

With the correct moves, the Hong Kong mafia leader could prove to be quite useful as a knight.

* * *

><p>That was it.<p>

End of the line.

He was going to give Asami the _silent treatment_.

Screw the loving engaged couple act.

Arrogant.

Heartless.

Betraying.

Bastard.

The car engine seemed to purr its agreement. Who wouldn't share its sentiments if sent to the workshop for repair jobs on a regular basis?

In the older man's lap, he puffed his cheeks and willed himself to remain unresponsive to the various jibes and inappropriate touches. Despite his determination to ignore the very existence of the man, Akihito couldn't help sneaking inconspicuous glances at well-timed intervals.

Asami gave equestrian wear a totally new definition. The white shirt wasn't anything special but the riding breeches. Oh God. It was a sin for the man to wear it. Akihito swore he narrowly avoided swooning like a girl at first sight. Skin-tight beige breeches fitted muscular legs perfectly, shadow highlighting solid planes under the sun. Even as he sat on them, view obscured, the curve of hardy thigh muscles rippled teasingly under his bottom, driving his self-restraint to its limits. This was all Asami's fault. What had the man done to him, to turn his once virgin body into such an immodest wanton thing?

Shifting nervously as he squished all tempting thoughts, Akihito tried to tune the remaining ones to other focuses.

For such an important business appointment, Asami sure was dressing pretty casually. In the first place, why do rich people go riding when they want to strike business deals? Corporate socializing for the rich and for the poor sure was different. Playing with the hems of his decorated _furi_, Akihito frowned. If Asami could dress semi-casually, why couldn't he too? Wearing an _Hōmongi_ was stifling, and entirely inappropriate for riding. Why bring him along if he never planned for his 'fiancée' to ride?

What were Asami's intentions? As usual, whatever the older man did, it would always confuse and baffle his simple mind. His fingers itched to pull at the yakuza's impeccable wrinkle-free shirt and his lips longed to interrogate. But, speaking to Asami was out of the question at the moment. He would not give his prized attention to the infuriating man. Not after betraying him like that.

Question left unanswered, Akihito started to speculate explanations of his own.

First explanation. He was supposed to be there just to look pretty, an ornament to make Asami look complete. Akihito was well aware of the fact that in the turbulent world of money and stocks, a grounded man would look rather appealing. A symbolism of stability. And the key to that was having a wife, or a wife-to-be in his peculiar case.

… Alright. Not in his case. Because he was a man. And men cannot be wed to another man. Or so the law states.

God. Why is he thinking about this? Just what is happening to him? Talking about marriage and dowry the day before must have really screwed his brain inside out.

Besides, having a wife didn't necessarily mean stability. There were still divorces and infidelity, evidence shown in many of the photos he had been taking since the very beginning as a freelance photographer.

Then there was the second explanation. To be a bargaining chip. He had not forgotten the night when Asami had dropped deceivingly minor details. If the King liked beautiful Asian women, should he offer something of an equivalent price, why shouldn't Asami give him up for the chance to conquer the empire of the underworld? His replaceable lover or his insatiable ambition. It wouldn't be too hard to choose.

Then again, there was that Hong Kong incident, which definitely proved he was at least important to Asami. Important enough to risk his life and many others'. It would be short-sightedness on Asami's part should he so willingly give up on something that he had literally spilled blood to protect, and short-sightedness was not one of Asami's defining traits.

Finally, the third explanation and by far the most ludicrous. Asami wanted a companion. Plain and simple. The man just wanted a comfortable familiarity to be with when facing an opponent of equal strength, if not possessing more.

Akihito gave a mental snort. A pillar of support? He highly doubted so. More like a short-lived lighted cigarette that was always stuck between the yakuza's lips, which was still too good a comparison because that man could never possibly live without having his daily nicotine dose. An addiction. It would be nice if Asami thought of him like that.

Unable to help himself, Akihito drew his face into a full-fledged frown. Just where had his pride fled to? Was he so desperate for Asami's attention that he would feel satisfied with just the mere regard as a thing? Thinking about it, with the exception of explanation number three, he had pretty much regarded himself as an object, a pawn in Asami's grand plan. Going along the lines of this thought, Akihito would come to terms that he was indeed stooping that low. That was the first step. Next, he would need to rectify this method of thinking. As quickly as possible.

Akihito gave a fatigued sigh. He was exhausted from having to face such stressing thoughts day after day. The mere inkling of Asami throwing him away when he had fulfilled his purpose (Big or small, it was debatable, but he would rather not go there for the time being.) was frightening and the very thought of it wrecked his soul.

Wrapped in his thoughts, Akihito failed to notice his small escapes of sighs and now barely concealed sneak peeks, which led the observant older man on. When the both of them finally made eye contact, Akihito snapped out of his daze and cursed. Why was it that even when he made it a point to physically show disinterest, the unbearably good-looking man still plagued his mind?

Apparently confident that Akihito was finally reacting to his less-than-proper-but-highly-desirable conduct, Asami leaned in for a kiss which the sulking young man childishly denied with a quick turn of his head.

Knowing the nature of such a mortal, Asami could hardly be classified as a man who would take refusal lightly. With equal stubbornness, the older man tried again, whispering sultrily, tempting the boy with promises of pleasure and carnal exploration.

Akihito puffed his cheeks once more. Ironic. Really. Here he was desperately craving for Asami's eyes in secret and there Asami was, giving him full attention (not the kind he wanted) as the man blatantly tried to get a reaction out of him.

"Akihito," breathed Asami, sliding fingertips seductively across the smooth planes of his leg, devoid of its usual fine hair.

The younger man sucked the air back from cheek pockets, effectively returning them to normal shape. Without hair to act as a buffer, the electricity sparking from where Asami's fingers touched intensified. Running through axons and dendrites, the sparks slyly got his brain drunk on pleasure. Dangerously close to relenting, Akihito frantically shook his head, clearing his mind. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks and steeled his determination.

He would win this battle of wills.

As Asami nuzzled the sensitive nerve endings at the nape of his neck, he felt his resolve slowly being peeled apart. The process sped up when familiar moist muscle started to tease and lap. Asami was becoming more persistent, putting more effort in the current round of self-perceived hard-to-get game. With all his nerves being lit with mere touches, he could hardly work his brain into thinking of other things. Damn it. He needed a distraction, a stimulus that would enable him to erect a fortress, using trivial thoughts as material.

Another erotic swipe.

He needed it fast, and preferably not centering about the man.

Akihito forced himself to focus on the scenery zipping past the car window, willing himself to give a silent description of it. People were rushing about. Men were preparing themselves for their daily afternoon prayers. Few women were seen on the streets as they huddled themselves in kitchens, whipping up gourmet dishes for lunch. Children, let off from school, chased after stray cats, treating the little critters to small pieces of freshly baked flatbread.

Speaking of cats, due to all the commotion in the last hour or so, the black feline he had picked up the day before had completely slipped his mind. The cat wasn't in the room when he woke up, which could only mean that Asami had chased it out or it had left on its own accord. Akihito drew his lips into a pout. He had wanted to have a look at the eye before releasing it. His lips then pursed when questions hanged precariously on the tip of his tongue.

Again, he couldn't possible inquire Asami about the cat when he was blatantly declaring indifference to the man. Maybe he would ask Kirishima later. If the obsessive secretary had no clue, he could always persuade the bespectacled man to ask Asami.

It didn't take Asami very long to notice Akihito's lack of reaction to his lewd ministrations. With a push of a button, he drew the blinds down, robbing the boy of his distraction. The sudden dimness jolted the boy out of his thoughts. Satisfied, Asami latched onto the base of Akihito's throat and sucked forcefully.

Caught unaware, a muffled moan slipped out of pressed lips. His victory was imminent. Smirking against pulsing jugular vein, Asami increased the vacuumising pressure, pushing Akihito closer to the brink.

It wasn't fair. The jerk was cheating. Repressing yet another moan, Akihito squirmed and wriggled, trying to pull away from the sinfully hot mouth. Against his will, his body soaked up that heat, working into an enticingly feverish display. Skillfully thrown into the swirling pit trap, he could no longer distract himself with thoughts either as none could formulate in the murky depths. His stomach coiled and knotted with familiarity. Upon recognizing the dreaded yet welcomed sensation, Akihito's eyes widened and squirmed harder.

"Still resisting? I wonder…," Asami clamped his teeth down on loose skin and released, tasting small rivulets of blood leisurely, "…just how much more you can endure."

"Mmf!" His small teeth wound throbbed, sensory neurons acting even more strongly due to the sudden harsh stimulus. The sensation washed over and overloaded his brain, electrifying everything in its path. If he didn't stop Asami soon, his garment would be soiled and then a very scary female would come after him with a chainsaw, putting waxing strips to shame. To lose his pride or his life. There was no need to consider which was more important. Decision made, he threw his resolve over his shoulders.

"W-wait! Time out!" Mustering all the strength he could, Akihito pushed at the head. "I. Said. Time. Out!"

Akihito breathed a sigh of relief when the older man finally complied, pulling away from the moist, bruising skin. Strong arms encircled his waist for insurance lest he attempted to escape. Was he that easy to read?

"What will you offer?" The younger boy knitted his recently shaped eyebrows in confusion.

Asami smirked and elaborated. "Equivalent exchange. If I stop, what will you give me in return for my loss?"

Spluttering, Akihito squirmed once more. "Loss? What loss? Pervert. Don't get all business-like with me." He clawed at his cage, self-preservation kicking in. Striking a deal with Asami was never the wisest of choice. He had everything to lose. "Lemme go!"

Chuckling, Asami tightened his grip further, drawing the kimono clad male closer. Once within range, he licked the ear shell and proposed a deal that would benefit the both of them, himself more so than the other. "I'll stop if you," he fondled the bare thighs between parted layers of fabric sensually, "don't run off on your own later."

Doing a quick cost-benefit analysis, Akihito nodded his head repeatedly, desperate for the broad hand to stop molesting him. Heated hands wandered further up as Asami elaborated further, tone taking a serious turn. "No matter what you see or hear Akihito, you absolutely must not stray from Kirishima's vision. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes! Yes! I promise!" Tugging at the hands that were overwhelming him with pleasure, he hastily agreed without the slightest of hesitation. "Now hands off!" Relief returned when the older man finally stopped. Obediently stay where he was told to remain? That was hardly difficult. He couldn't move much anyway, not with his non-functioning leg muscles.

"One more thing," Akihito turned questioningly to face the man.

First mistake.

His lips were immediately captured. Feeling a small sphere being pushed towards his mouth, he tried to pull away. However, Asami was a step quicker. Held in place by the back of his head, Akihito chose the next alternative. He pressed his lips firmly together, denying entrance.

Second mistake.

A sharp tug at his arousal had him gasping.

Third mistake.

Akihito choked as the pill rolled into his trachea. Doubling over, he coughed in agony, thumping his chest in effort to force the solid back up.

Panicking accusatory hazel locked with amused gold when Asami tilted the boy's head back, baring the quivering throat. He kneaded the clenching muscles patiently, skillfully bringing the pill down the correct channel.

Shoulders heaving as he gulped for precious air, Akihito blinked the beads of tears away. "What the hell did you just give me?"

The heavy broad frame shrugged, baritone reverberating pleasantly. "A good luck charm."

"G-good luck?" Akihito exclaimed. "That thing almost choked me to death."

"Minor detail."

"M-mi…Minor? I could have died you heartless jerk!"

Blood rushed to his head in the heat of his indignant rage.

"I'm not talking to you anymore!"

Harrumphing spitefully, Akihito clambered clumsily off Asami's lap. Settling himself on the other side of the seat, he childishly crossed his arms and turned his head away angrily, giving his attention to the dark blinds.

Asami sighed at the sudden lost of his lap warmer. The silent treatment _again_? Sometimes, his little cat was so difficult to please.

Asami 4 (round one +1) Akihito 3 (round two +1)

* * *

><p><em>Hōmongi –<em> A type of formal kimono. Literally translated as 'visiting wear'. It was originally meant for married women as it replaces the _furisode _(strictly unmarried women's formal kimono, usually worn for coming-of-age ceremonies, characterized by the exceptionally long _furi_) upon entering womanhood. At present, unmarried women may also wear them to ceremonies and formal events.

_Okumi_ – Refers to the front inside panel situated on the front edge of the left and right, excluding the sleeve of a kimono. Until the collar, down to the bottom of the dress goes, up and down part of the strip of cloth. Just google it, it's a lot easier to understand with the diagram.

_Furi – _Sleeve below the arm hole

_Fantasia _– A traditional Moroccan equestrian performance involving gunpowder guns. Originally called the 'game of gunpowder'.

A/n: Chapter 8 done. Finally. :D PM me if there's any mistakes.

Recently, I've seen quite a number of online manga sites licensing this manga. A real pity. And the animix has been taken down from youtube. Sighs. I just love reading people's comments. They're hilarious. And now, since it's taken down, all I read is people screaming for it to come back (which were funny on its own. I know. It's mean. Sorry. But I couldn't help myself).

On a completely unrelated note, 6 more days to Kony 2012 'Cover the Night'! I can't wait to see the videos of the campaign. Wonder if it's going to be as huge as they claim (or wish) it to be…

Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing!

God speed to all of you.


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